w 


BSfe 


THE   PURITAN    EDITION 

The  Pilgrim's  Progress 

FROM  THIS  WORLD  TO  THAT  WHICH 
IS  TO  COME.  DELIVERED  UNDER 
THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM 


BY 


JOHN    BUNYAN 

Thirty-one  Illustrations  in  Puritan  Costume 
By  Harold  Copping 


NEW  YORK        CHICAGO        TORONTO 

Fleming  H.   Revell   Company 

LONDON    AND    EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1903,  by 

FLEMING    H     REVELL    COMPANY 
(October} 


New  York-  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  North  Wabash  Aye. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


PREFACE 

In  the  preparation  of  this,  the  Puritan  Edition  of  Pil- 
grim's Progress,  special  attention  has  been  paid  to  revis- 
ion of  the  text,  and  great  pains  taken  to  restore  this  as 
nearly  as  possible  to  the  text  which  had  received 
Bunyan's  own  latest  corrections  and  additions.  It  is 
well  known  that  in  the  second  and  third  editions, 
Bunyan  made  large  additions  to  the  allegory  and  many 
important  corrections.  For  example.  Worldly  Wise- 
man first  makes  his  appearance  in  the  second  edition, 
published  in  1678,  the  year  already  made  famous  by 
the  publication  of  the  first  edition.  In  the  third  edition, 
issued  in  1679,  Bunyan  added  the  characteristic  portrait 
of  Mr.  By-ends.  During  Bunyan's  life-time,  eleven 
editions  of  the  great  book  were  published,  the  last 
appearing  in  1688,  the  year  of  his  death. 

The  edition  now  presented  to  readers  of  every  class 
contains  the  text  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  as  it  stood 
when  Bunyan's  death  removed  all  possibility  of  further 
authoritative  revision.  The  proofs  have  been  very 
carefully  compared  with  copies  of  the  first,  second, 
third,  and  eleventh  editions  in  the  library  of  the  British 
Museum.  The  eleventh,  which  is  one  of  the  rarest  in 
the  whole  series,  appeared  in  the  year  when  Bunyan 
died  It  doubtless  contains  its  latest  corrections-  It 


267700 


PREFACE 

was  also  much  more  fully  illustrated  than  any  previous 
issue.  There  are  often  important  differences  between 
the  text  of  the  third  and  of  the  eleventh  editions.  In 
all  these  cases  the  text  printed  here  is  that  of  the 
eleventh. 

In  the  original  edition  Scripture  references  were 
printed  in  the  margin.  But  these  are  often  inaccurate, 
In  later  days  these  have  been  much  revised,  altered, 
and  enlarged.  No  attempt  has  been  made  in  this 
edition  to  reproduce  these  references. 

The  second  part  has  for  this  reprint  been  carefully 
collated  with  the  second  edition,  published  in  1686.  This 
was  the  last  edition  of  that  part  issued  in  Bunyan's  life- 
time, and  doubtless  contains  his  own  latest  corrections. 

This  edition,  therefore,  may  confidently  claim  to  be  as 
accurate  as  the  very  best  editions  in  print,  if,  indeed,  it 
be  not  superior  to  any  yet  issued. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing  page 

EVANGELIST  POINTS  THE  WAY          .        .        .         Title 
"Do  you  see  yonder  shining  light?" 

CHRISTIAN  WALKING  IN  THE  FIELD  .      18 

He  was  (as  he  was  wonf)  reading  in  his  book. 

THE  SLOUGH  OF  DESPOND 24 

So  he  gave  him  his  hand,  and  he  drew  him  out, 
and  set  him  upon  sound  ground,  and  bid  him  go  on 
his  way. 

THE  WICKET  GATE 34 

So  when  Christian  was  stepping  in,  the  other  gave 
him  a  pull. 

THE  MAN  IN  THE  IRON  CAGE 42 

Then  said  Christian,  "/?  there  no  hope,  but  you  must 
be  kept  in  the  iron  cage  of  despair  ¥" 

CHRISTIAN  LOSES  HIS  BURDEN        ....      46 

Now  as  he  stood  looking  and  weeping,  behold,  three 

Shining  Ones  came  to  him. 

CLIMBING  THE  HILL  DIFFICULTY    ....       50 

He  fell  from  running  to  going,  and  from  going 
to  clambering  upon  his  hands  and  his  knees,  because 
of  the  steepness  of  the  place. 

CHRISTIAN  CLOTHED  IN  ARMOUR  ....      64 

They  harnessed  him  from  head  to  foot  with  what 

was  of  proof . 

v 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing  page 

IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH      .       72 

50  he  cried  in  my  hearing,  ' '  0  Lord,  I  beseech  Thee, 

deliver  my  sou/.'1 

TALKATIVE 86 

"  What  you  will.  I  will  talk  of  things  heavenly, 
or  things  earthly ;  things  moral,  or  things  evan- 
gelical." 

VANITY  FAIR 98 

As  they  entered  into  the  fair,  all  the  people  in  th€ 
fair  were  moved,  and  the  town  itself,  as  it  were,  in 
a  hubbub  about  them. 

FAITHFUL'S  MARTYRDOM   .        .        .  .     106 

Last  of  all  they  burned  him.  to  ashes  at  the  stakt. 

Thus  came  Faithful  to  his  end. 

DEMAS 114 

Then  said  Hopeful,  "Let  us  go  see" 

IN  THE  DUNGEON  OF  GIANT  DESPAIR   .        .        .     122 

Here,  then,  they  lay  from  Wednesday  morning  till 
Saturday  night  without  one  bit  of  bread,  or  drop  of 
drink,  or  light. 

THE  HILL  CALLED  ERROR 128 

They  had  them  first  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  called 
Error,  which  was  very  steep  on  the  farthest  side, 
and  bid  them  look  down  to  the  bottom. 

ENTANGLED  IN  THE  NET 140 

At  last  they  espied  a  Shining  One  coming  towards 
them  with  a  whip  of  small  cord  in  his  hand. 

HOPEFUL'S  CONVERSION 150 

"Lord,  I  am  a  great,  a  very  great  sinner" 

CROSSING  THE  RIVER 164 

Hopeful  also  would  endeavour  to  comfort  him,  say- 
ing  "Brother,  I  see  the  gate." 
vi 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing  page 

CHRISTIANA'S  VISITOR 186 

So  she  cried  out  to  her  visitor,   "  Sir,  will  you 
carry  me  and  my  children  with  you,  that  we  also         , 
may  go  and  worship  this  King  ?  " 

MERCY  AND  TIMOROUS  CALL  ON  CHRISTIANA  .     188 

Two  of  the  women  that  were  Christiana's  neighbours 

came  up  to  her  house  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

MERCY  AT  THE  GATE 19* 

But  Mercy  was  fallen  down  without  in  a  swoon. 

THE  BOYS  AND  THE  FRUIT 202 

So  Christiana's  boys,  as  boys  are  apt  to  do,  being 
pleased  with  the  trees,  and  with  the  fruit  that  did 
hang  thereon,  did  pluck  them,  and  began  to  eat. 
Their  mother  did  also  chide  them  for  so  doing. 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  MUCK-RAKE      ....    208 

A  man  that  could  look  no  way  but  downwards, 
with  a  muck-rake  in  his  hand.  There  stood  also 
One  over  his  head,  with  a  celestial  crown  in  His 
hand,  and  proffered  to  give  him  that  crown  for  his 
•muck-rake. 

CLIMBING  THE  HILL  DIFFICULTY    ....    222 

"Come,  come"  said  Great-heart,  "sit  not  down  here; 

for  a  little  above  is  the  Prince's  arbour" 

MR  BRISK  AND  MERCY 236 

So  the  next  time  he  comes  he  finds  her  at  her  old 
work,  amaking  of  things  for  the  poor.  Then  said 
he,  "What,  always  at  it?" 

THE  SHEPHERD  BOY'S  SONG 246. 

And  as  he  sat  by  himself  he  sung. 

DEATH  OF  GIANT  MAUL 254 

With  that  the  giant  began  to  faint,  and  could 
hold  up  his  club  no  longer.  Then  Mr  Great-heart 
seconded  his  blow,  and  smote  the  head  of  the  giant 
from  his  shoulders. 

vii 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing  page 

GREAT -HE  ART     CONDUCTING     MR     FEARING 
THROUGH   THE  VALLEY   OF  THE  SHADOW 

OF  DEATH 262 

"I  thought  I  should  have  lost  my  man. — He  was 
ready  to  die  for  fear." 

GREAT-HEART    AND    MR  HONEST    AT  GAIUS'S 

HOUSE 274 

"Ha  /"  said  Mr  Honest,  "  //  is  a  hard  one  ;  hard  to 
expound,  and  harder  to  practise" 

MR  DESPONDENCY  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER  MUCH- 
AFRAID 292 

They  found  one  Mr  Despondency,  almost  starved  to 
death,  and  one  Much-afraid,  his  daughter. 

CHRISTIANA  BLESSING  HER  CHILDREN.        .        .     314 

Then  she  called  for  her  children,  and  gave  them 

her  blessing. 


viii 


MEMOIR  OF  JOHN  BUNYAN 

JOHN  BUNYAN,  the  son  of  a  travelling  brazier  or  tinker, 
was  born  at  Elstow,  near  Bedford,  in  1628,  at  a  period 
when  wickedness  prevailed  through  the  land.  His 
education  was  such  as  poor  people  could  in  those  days 
give  to  their  children.  He  was  sent  to  school  and 
taught  to  read  and  write;  but  he  was  an  idle  boy,  and 
for  cursing,  swearing,  lying,  and  blaspheming,  had  few 
equals  of  his  own  age.  In  his  earlier  days,  terror  seemed 
to  be  the  only  restraining  influence  of  which  he  felt 
the  power.  In  the  day-time  he  often  had  gloomy  fore- 
bodings of  the  wrath  to  come ;  and  at  night  he  was  scared 
with  dreams.  His  imagination  conceived  apparitions  of 
evil  spirits  seeking  to  drag  him  away  after  them  ;  or  he 
would  fancy  that  the  last  day  was  come,  with  all  its 
terrible  realities. 

Such  were  his  youthful  fears.  As  he  grew  older, 
he  became  more  hardened :  and  the  remarkable  provi- 
dential interpositions  of  which  he  was  the  subject  neither 
startled  nor  melted  him.  Twice  he  narrowly  escaped 
drowning  ;  and  during  the  Civil  War  was  drawn  as  a 
soldier  to  go  to  the  siege  of  Leicester.  A  comrade, 
who  had  sought  and  obtained  leave  to  go  in  his  room, 
when  standing  sentry,  was  shot  through  the  head  and 
died. 

His  marriage  had  some  slight  influence  on  his  future 
life.  The  young  woman  was  very  poor,  and  her  only 

5 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

portion  consisted  of  two  volumes  which  her  father,  a 
godly  man,  had  given  to  her — The  Plain  Mans  Pathway 
to  Heaven,  and  The  Practice  of  Piety.  Mrs  Bunyan 
would  often  read  these  books  with  her  husband,  and 
would  relate  what  a  holy  life  her  father  led.  As  a 
consequence  an  earnest  desire  for  reformation  seized 
upon  him ;  but  it  was  only  external.  His  heart  was 
unchanged,  and  he  continued  in  a  sinful  course  of 
life. 

Hearing,  however,  a  sermon  on  the  sin  of  Sabbath- 
breaking,  it  much  affected  him.  As  was  his  custom, 
he  was  engaged  in  the  afternoon  at  a  pastime,  when 
thoughts  of  a  coming  judgment  crowded  in  upon  his 
awakened  mind.  He  became  terrified,  and  imagined  he 
heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying,  '  Wilt  thou  leave  thy 
sins  and  go  to  heaven,  or  have  thy  sins  and  go  to 
hell?'  The  conviction  that  he  had  been  a  grievous 
transgressor  flashed  across  his  mind,  but  he  concluded 
that  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  look  for  pardon  or 
for  heaven,  and  he  returned  desperately  to  his  sports 
again. 

After  some  time  had  passed,  he  fell  into  the  company  of 
a  poor  Christian  man,  whose  pious  conversation  about 
religion  and  the  Scriptures  so  touched  Bunyan's  heart 
that  he  began  to  read  the  Bible.  There  were  many 
things  in  that  book  which  alarmed  him,  and  he  commenced 
an  outward  reformation  in  word  and  life,  but  entirely  in 
his  own  strength,  and  ignorant  of  the  love  and  grace  of 
Christ  Jesus.  The  conversation  of  three  pious  women, 
sitting  at  a  door  in  the  streets  of  Bedford,  one  day 
attracted  his  notice.  He  drew  near,  and  as  they  spoke  of 
the  things  of  God,  of  His  work  in  their  hearts,  and  of  the 
peace  of  reconciliation,  he  saw  there  was  something  in  real 

6 


BRIEF  NOTICE  OF  THE  AUTtiOR 

religion  which  he  had  not  yet  known  or  felt.  Their  words 
were  never  forgotten,  and  from  that  time  he  forsook  the 
company  of  the  profane,  and  sought  the  society  of  those 
who  had  at  least  a  reputation  for  piety. 

Bunyan  had  now  set  out  fairly  on  his  way  from  the 
City  of  Destruction ;  but  he  fell  into  many  dangers  and 
errors,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  fear  which  can  assail  an 
inquiring  spirit  which  did  not  at  some  period  disturb 
his  mind.  For  a  long  time,  he  was  like  his  own  man  in 
the  cage,  at  Interpreter's  house,  shut  out  from  the  pro- 
mises and  looking  forward  to  certain  judgment.  His 
conflict,  too,  with  the  Evil  One  was  such  as  to  remind 
us  of  the  struggle  between  Christian  and  Apollyon. 
There  came  now,  however,  as  he  beautifully  expresses  it 
in  his  Pilgrim,  a  hand  with  some  of  the  leaves  of  the 
tree  of  life,  which  Christian  took  and  applied  to  some  of 
the  wounds  he  had  received  in  the  battle,  and  was  healed 
immediately.  He  was  led  by  faith  to  the  cross  of  Christ, 
and  became  more  than  conqueror  through  Him  that  loved 
him.  Shortly  after  this  time,  he  made  an  open  profession 
of  religion,  and  then  began  to  make  known  to  others  the 
Saviour  whom  he  had  found. 

The  now  enlightened  Christian  man  soon  had  to  suffer 
much  on  account  of  his  religion.  Between  the  years  1655 
and  1660  he  often  preached  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Bed- 
ford. In  the  latter  year  he  was  arrested  and  put  into  the 
Bedford  County  Gaol,  where,  for  twelve  years,  with  but 
one  brief  interval  of  a  few  weeks,  he  was  kept  a  prisoner. 
It  is  frequently  asserted  that  Bunyan  wrote  the  Pilgrim's  • 
Progress  during  this  imprisonment.  But  Dr  Brown  has 
shown  conclusively  that  it  was  during  a  later  and  briefer 
imprisonment  in  the  old  town  jail  on  Bedford  Bridge  in 
the  year  1676  that  the  first  part  of  the  immortal  master- 

7 


THE  MLGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

piece  was  written.  It  was  first  published  in  the  early 
months  of  the  year  1678.  The  second  part  was  not 
published  until  1685. 

This  book,  which  is  equally  a  favourite  in  the  nursery 
and  in  the  study,  has  received  the  commendation  of  men 
of  the  highest  order  of  intellect.  It  has  been  translated 
into  numerous  languages,  some  of  which  were  un- 
known to  Europe  in  the  days  in  which  Bunyan  lived. 
Missionaries  have  carried  with  them  this  book  to  almost 
every  part  of  the  earth ;  and  now  the  Pilgrim  tells  his 
tale  to  the  Chinese  in  the  East,  to  the  negroes  in  the 
West,  to  the  Greenlanders  in  the  North,  and  the  islanders 
of  the  Pacific  in  the  South. 

Bunyan  was  the  author  of  another  allegory,  The  Holy 
War,  published  in  1682,  which  is  second  only  in  merit 
to  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  In  his  own  inimitable  way  he 
has  also  told  the  story  of  his  life  and  religious  ex- 
perience in  Grace  Abounding,  a  classic  worthy  to  stand  by 
Augustine's  Confessions  and  Luther's  Table  Talk.  Besides 
these  great  works  he  wrote  many  valuable  treatises, 
some  of  which  are  still  read  with  pleasure  and  profit. 

In  prison  Bunyan  learned  the  art  of  making  long- 
tagged  thread  laces,  and  thus  contributed  to  the  support 
of  his  family.  After  his  release  he  lived  a  useful  life 
as  minister  of  Bunyan  Meeting  in  Bedford,  and  as  a 
preacher  and  writer.  He  died  August  12,  1 688,  at  Mr 
Strudwick's,  a  grocer,  at  the  sign  of  the  '  Star,'  on  Snow 
Hill,  and  was  buried  in  Bunhill  Fields. 


THE 
AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  BOOK 

WHEN  at  the  first  I  took  my  pen  in  hand 
Thus  for  to  write,  I  did  not  understand 
That  I  at  all  should  make  a  little  book 
In  such  a  mode  ;  nay,  I  had  undertook 
To  make  another ;  which,  when  almost  done, 
Before  I  was  aware  I  this  begun. 

And  thus  it  was  :  I  writing  of  the  way 
And  race  of  saints,  in  this  our  gospel  day, 
Fell  suddenly  into  an  allegory 
About  their  journey,  and  the  way  to  glory, 
In  more  than  twenty  things  which  I  set  down : 
This  done,  I  twenty  more  had  in  my  crown  ; 
And  they  again  began  to  multiply, 
Like  sparks  that  from  the  coals  of  fire  do  fly. 
Nay,  then,  thought  I,  if  that  you  breed  so  fast 
I'll  put  you  by  yourselves,  lest  you  at  last 
Should  prove  ad  infinitum,  and  eat  out 
The  book  that  I  already  am  about. 
Well,  so  I  did  ;  but  yet  I  did  not  think 
To  show  to  all  the  world  my  pen  and  ink 
In  such  a  mode ;  I  only  thought  to  make 
I  knew  not  what :  nor  did  I  undertake 
Thereby  to  please  my  neighbour :  no,  not  1 1 
I  did  it  mine  own  self  to  gratify, 
9 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Neither  did  I  but  vacant  seasons  spend 
In  this  my  scribble  :  nor  did  I  intend 
But  to  divert  myself  in  doing  this, 
From  worser  thoughts  which  make  me  do  amiss. 

Thus  I  set  pen  to  paper  with  delight, 

And  quickly  had  my  thoughts  in  black  and  white. 

For  having  now  my  method  by  the  end, 

Still  as  I  pulFd,  it  came ;  and  so  I  penn'd 

It  down  :  until  it  came  at  last  to  be, 

For  length  and  breadth,  the  bigness  which  you  see. 

Well,  when  I  had  thus  put  mine  ends  together, 
I  show'd  them  others,  that  I  might  see  whether 
They  would  condemn  them,  or  them  justify: 
And  some  said,  Let  them  live ;  some,  Let  them  die. 
Some  said,  John,  print  it ;  others  said,  Not  so ; 
Some  said,  It  might  do  good ;  others  said,  No. 

Now  was  I  in  a  strait,  and  did  not  see 
Which  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done  by  me : 
At  last  I  thought,  Since  ye  are  thus  divided, 
I  print  it  will ;  and  so  the  case  decided 

For,  thought  I,  some  I  see  would  have  it  done, 
.Though  others  in  that  channel  do  not  run : 
To  prove,  then,  who  advised  for  the  best, 
Thus  I  thought  fit  to  put  it  to  the  test. 

I  further  thought,  if  now  I  did  deny 
Those  that  would  have  it,  thus  to  gratify ; 
I  did  not  know,  but  hinder  them  I  might 
Of  that  which  would  to  them  be  great  delight 
For  those  which  were  not  for  its  coming  forth, 
I  said  to  them,  Offend  you  I  am  loth : 
Yet  since  your  brethren  pleased  with  it  be, 
Forbear  to  judge,  till  you  do  further  see. 
10 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY 

If  that  thou  wilt  not  read,  let  it  alone ; 
Some  love  the  meat,  some  love  to  pick  the  bone  5 
Yea,  that  I  might  them  better  palliate, 
I  did  too  with  them  thus  expostulate : 

May  I  not  write  in  such  a  style  as  this  ? 
In  such  a  method  too,  and  yet  not  miss 
My  end — thy  good  ?     Why  may  it  not  be  done  ? 
Dark  clouds  bring  waters,  when  the  bright  bring  none» 
Yea,  dark  or  bright,  if  they  their  silver  drops 
Cause  to  descend,  the  earth,  by  yielding  crops, 
Gives  praise  to  both,  and  carpeth  not  at  either, 
But  treasures  up  the  fruit  they  yield  together ; 
Yea,  so  commixes  both,  that  in  their  fruit 
None  can  distinguish  this  from  that ;  they  suit 
Her  well  when  hungry  ;  but  if  she  be  full 
She  spews  out  both,  and  makes  their  blessing  null. 

You  see  the  ways  the  fisherman  doth  take 
To  catch  the  fish  ;  what  engines  doth  he  make  f 
Behold  how  he  engageth  all  his  wits ; 
Also  his  snares,  lines,  angles,  hooks,  and  nets  3 
Yet  fish  there  be,  that  neither  hook  nor  line, 
Nor  snare,  nor  net,  nor  engine  can  make  thine : 
They  must  be  grop'd  for,  and  be  tickled  too, 
Or  they  will  not  be  catch'd,  whatever  you  do. 

How  does  the  fowler  seek  to  catch  his  game 
By  divers  means  !  all  which  one  cannot  name  : 
His  gun,  his  nets,  his  lime-twigs,  light,  and  bell : 
He  creeps,  he  goes,  he  stands ;  yea,  who  can  tell 
Of  all  his  postures  ?     Yet  there's  none  of  these 
Will  make  him  master  of  what  fowls  he  please. 
Yea,  he  must  pipe  and  whistle,  to  catch  this ; 
Yet  if  he  does  so,  that  bird  he  will  misi. 
If  that  a  pearl  may  in  a  toad's  head  dwell^ 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

And  may  be  found  too  in  an  oyster-shell  5 
If  things  that  promise  nothing  do  contain 
What  better  is  than  gold  ;  who  will  disdain, 
That  have  an  inkling  of  it,  there  to  look, 
That  they  may  find  it  ?    Now  my  little  book, 
(Though  void  of  all  these  paintings  that  may  make 
It  with  this  or  the  other  man  to  take,) 
Is  not  without  those  things  that  do  excel 
What  do  in  brave,  but  empty  notions  dwelL 

'  Well,  yet  I  am  not  fully  satisfied, 
That  this  your  book  will  stand,  when  soundly  tried.' 


Why,   what's   the  matter?      'It  is   dark.'      What 

though  ? 

c  But  it  is  feigned.'     What  of  that  ?     I  trow 
Some  men  by  feigned  words,  as  dark  as  mine, 
Make  truth  to  spangle,  and  its  rays  to  shine. 
'  But  they  want  solidness.'     Speak,  man,  thy  mind. 
*  They  drowned  the  weak  5  metaphors  make  us  blind,' 

Solidity,  indeed,  becomes  the  pen 
Of  him  that  writeth  things  divine  to  men : 
But  must  I  needs  want  solidness,  because 
By  metaphors  I  speak  ?     Were  not  God's  laws, 
His  gospel  laws,  in  olden  time  held  forth 
By  types,  shadows,  and  metaphors  ?     Yet  loth 
Will  any  sober  man  be  to  find  fault 
With  them,  lest  he  be  found  for  to  assault 
The  highest  wisdom  !     No,  he  rather  stoops, 
And  seeks  to  find  out  what  by  pins  and  loops, 
By  calves  and  sheep,  by  heifers  and  by  rams, 
By  birds  and  herbs,  and  by  the  blood  of  lambs, 
God  speaketh  to  him ;  and  happy  is  he 
That  finds  the  light  and  grace  that  in  them  be, 

12 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY 

Be  not  too  forward  therefore  to  conclude 
That  I  want  solidness — that  I  am  rude  : 
All  things  solid  in  show  not  solid  be ; 
All  things  in  parable  despise  not  we, 
Lest  things  most  hurtful  lightly  we  receive, 
And  things  that  good  are  of  our  souls  bereave. 
My  dark  and  cloudy  words,  they  do  but  hold 
The  truth,  as  cabinets  enclose  the  gold. 

The  prophets  used  much  by  metaphors 
To  set  forth  truth :  yea,  whoso  considers 
Christ,  His  apostles  too,  shall  plainly  see, 
That  truths  to  this  day  in  such  mantles  be. 

Am  I  afraid  to  say,  that  Holy  "Writ, 
Which  for  its  style  and  phrase  puts  down  all  wit," 
Is  everywhere  so  full  of  all  these  things, 
Dark  figures,  allegories  ?     Yet  there  springs 
From  that  same  book,  that  lustre,  and  those  rays 
Of  light,  that  turn  our  darkest  nights  to  days. 

Come,  let  my  carper  to  his  life  now  look, 
And  find  there  darker  lines  than  in  my  book 
He  findeth  any ;  yea,  and  let  him  know, 
That  in  his  best  things  there  are  worse  lines  too. 

May  we  but  stand  before  impartial  men, 
To  his  poor  one  I  durst  adventure  ten, 
That  they  will  take  my  meaning  in  these  lines 
Far  better  than  his  lies  in  silver  shrines. 
Come,  Truth,  although  in  swaddling  clouts,  I  find 
Informs  the  judgment,  rectifies  the  mind  ; 
Pleases  the  understanding,  makes  the  will 
Submit ;  the  memory  too  it  doth  fill 
With  what  doth  our  imagination  please  5 
Likewise  it  tends  our  troubles  to  appease. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Sound  words,  I  know,  Timothy  is  to  use, 
And  old  wives'  fables  he  is  to  refuse ; 
But  yet  grave  Paul  him  nowhere  doth  forbid 
The  use  of  parables  ;  in  which  lay  hid 
That  gold,  those  pearls,  and  precious  stones  that  were 
Worth  digging  for,  and  that  with  greatest  care. 

Let  me  add  one  word  more.     O  man  of  God  ! 
Art  thou  offended  ?     Dost  thou  wish  I  had 
Put  forth  my  matter  in  another  dress  ? 
Or  that  I  had  in  things  been  more  express  ? 
Three  things  let  me  propound ;  then  I  submit, 
To  those  that  are  my  betters,  as  is  fit. 

1.  I  find  not  that  I  am  denied  the  use 
Of  this  my  method,  so  I  no  abuse 

Put  on  the  words,  things,  readers,  or  be  rude 
In  handling  figure  or  similitude, 
In  application ;  but  all  that  I  may 
Seek  the  advance  of  truth  this  or  that  way. 
Denied,  did  I  say  ?     Nay,  I  have  leave, 
(Example  too,  and  that  from  them  that  have 
God  better  pleased,  by  their  words  or  ways. 
Than  any  man  that  breatheth  now-a-days,) 
Thus  to  express  my  mind,  thus  to  declare 
Things  unto  thee  that  excellentest  are. 

2.  I  find  that  men  as  high  as  trees  will  write 
Dialogue-wise  ;  yet  no  man  doth  them  slight 
For  writing  so :  indeed  if  they  abuse 

Truth,  cursed  be  they,  and  the  craft  they  use 

To  that  intent ;  but  yet  let  Truth  be  free 

To  make  her  sallies  upon  thee  and  me, 

Which  way  it  pleases  God :  for  who  knows  how, 

Better  than  He  that  taught  us  first  to  plough, 

To  guide  our  mind  and  pens  for  His  design  ? 

And  He  makes  base  things  usher  in  divine. 

14 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY 

3.  I  find  that  Holy  "Writ  in  many  places 
Hath  semblance  with  this  method,  where  the  cases 
Do  call  for  one  thing,  to  set  forth  another : 
Use  it  I  may  then,  and  yet  nothing  smother 
Truth's  golden  beams :  nay,  by  this  method  may 
Make  it  cast  forth  its  rays  as  light  as  day. 

And  now,  before  I  do  put  up  my  pen, 
I'll  show  the  profit  of  my  book ;  and  then 
Commit  both  thee  and  it  unto  that  hand 
That  pulls  the  strong  down,  and  makes  weak  ones  stand. 

This  book  it  chalketh  out  before  thine  eyes 
The  man  that  seeks  the  everlasting  prize : 
It  shows  you  whence  he  comes,  whither  he  goes  5 
What  he  leaves  undone ;  also  what  he  does  : 
It  also  shows  you  how  he  runs  and  runs 
Till  he  unto  the  gate  of  glory  comes. 

It  shows,  too,  who  sets  out  for  life  amain, 
As  if  the  lasting  crown  they  would  attain : 
Here  also  you  may  see  the  reason  why 
They  lose  their  labour,  and  like  fools  do  die. 

This  book  will  make  a  traveller  of  thee 
If  by  its  counsel  thou  wilt  ruled  be ; 
It  will  direct  thee  to  the  Holy  Land, 
If  thou  wilt  its  directions  understand : 
Yea,  it  will  make  the  slothful  active  be  j 
The  blind  also  delightful  things  to  see. 

Art  thou  for  something  rare  and  profitable  ? 
"Wouldest  thou  see  a  truth  within  a  fable  ? 
Art  thou  forgetful  ?     Wouldest  thou  remember 
From  New-year's  day  to  the  last  of  December  ? 
Then  read  my  fancies ;  they  will  stick  like  burs, 
And  may  be  to  the  helpless,  comforters* 

15 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

This  book  is  writ  in  such  a  dialect, 
As  may  the  minds  of  listless  men  affect : 
?t  seems  a  novelty,  and  yet  contains 
Nothing  but  sound  and  honest  gospel  strains. 

Wouldst  thou  divert  thyself  from  melancholy  ? 
"Wouldst  thou  be  pleasant,  yet  be  far  from  folly  ? 
Wouldst  thou  read  riddles  and  their  explanation  ? 
Or  else  be  drowned  in  thy  contemplation  ? 
Dost  thou  love  picking  meat  ?     Or  wouldst  thou  see 
A  roan  i*  the  clouds,  and  hear  him  speak  to  thee  ? 
Wouldst  thou  be  in  a  dream,  and  yet  not  sleep  ? 
Or  wouldst  thou  in  a  moment  laugh  and  weep  ? 

Wouldest  thou  lose  thyself  and  catch  no  harm, 

And  find  thyself  again  without  a  charm  ? 

Wouldst  read  thyself,  and  read  thou  know'st  not  what, 

And  yet  know  whether  thou  art  blest  or  not, 

By  reading  the  same  lines  ?     O  then  come  hither, 

And  lay  my  book,  thy  head,  and  heart  together. 

JOHN  BUNYAN. 


16 


THE 

PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

IN  THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM 

As  I  walked  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world,   I 
lighted  on  a  certain  place  where  was  a 
den,  and  laid  me  down  in  that  place   to 
sleep;  and  as  I  slept,  I  dreamed  a  dream.     I  dreamed, 
and  behold,  I  saw  a  man  clothed  with  rags  standing  in 
a  certain  place,  with  his  face  from  his   own   house,  a 
book  in  his  hand,  and  a  great  burden  upon  his  back. 
I  looked,  and  saw  him  open  the  book,  and  read  therein  ; 
and  as  he  read,  he  wept  and  trembled;  and  not  being 
able  longer  to  contain,  he  brake  out  with 
a   lamentable   cry,    saying,    What    shall 
I  do? 

In  this  plight,  therefore,  he  went  home,  and  restrained 
himself  as  long  as  he  could,  that  his  wife  and  children 
should  not  perceive  his  distress ;  but  he  could  not  be 
silent  long,  because  that  his  trouble  increased.     Where- 
fore at  length  he  brake  his  mind  to  his  wife  and  children ; 
and  thus  he  began  to  talk  to  them.     O  my  dear  wife,  said 
he,  and  you  the  children  of  my  bowels,  I,  your  dear  friend, 
am  in  myself  undone  by  reason  of  a  burden  that  lieth  hard 
upon  me ;  moreover,  I  am  for  certain  in- 
formed  that  this  our  city  will  be  burned 
with    fire    from    heaven ;    in   which   fearful   overthrow, 
both  myself,  with  thee  my  wife,  and  you     He  knows  no  way 
my  sweet  babes,  shall  miserably  come  to     of  escape  as  yet 
ruin,  except  (the  which  yet  I  see  not)    some  way  of 

17  B 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

escape  can  be  found,  whereby  we  may  be  delivered. 
At  this  his  relations  were  sore  amazed ;  not  for  that 
they  believed  that  what  he  had  said  to  them  was 
true,  but  because  they  thought  that  some  phrensy 
distemper  had  got  into  his  head;  therefore,  it  drawing 
towards  night,  and  they  hoping  that  sleep  might  settle 
his  brains,  with  all  haste  they  got  him  to  bed.  But 
the  night  was  as  troublesome  to  him  as  the  day; 
wherefore,  instead  of  sleeping,  he  spent  it  in  sighs 
and  tears.  So  when  the  morning  was  come,  they 
would  know  how  he  did.  He  told  them,  "Worse 
and  worse :  he  also  set  to  talking  to  them  again ;  but 
they  began  to  be  hardened.  They  also  thought  to 
Carnal  physic  for  drive  away  his  distemper  by  harsh  and 
a  sick  soul  surly  carriages  to  him :  sometimes  they 

would  deride,  sometimes  they  would  chide,  and  some- 
times they  would  quite  neglect  him.  Wherefore  he  began 
to  retire  himself  to  his  chamber,  to  pray  for  and  pity 
them,  and  also  to  condole  his  own  misery ;  he  would 
also  walk  solitarily  in  the  fields,  sometimes  reading,  and 
sometimes  praying :  and  thus  for  some  days  he  spent 
his  time. 

Now  I  saw,  upon  a  time,  when  he  was  walking  in 
the  fields,  that  he  was  (as  he  was  wont)  reading  in 
his  book,  and  greatly  distressed  in  his  mind ;  and  as 
he  read,  he  burst  out  as  he  had  done  before,  crying, 
"What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ? 

I  saw  also  that  he  looked  this  way,  and  that  way,  as 
if  he  would  run ;  yet  he  stood  still,  because  (as  I  per- 
ceived) he  could  not  tell  which  way  to  go.  I  looked 
then,  and  saw  a  man  named  Evangelist  coming  to  him, 
and  asked,  Wherefore  dost  thou  cry  ? 

He  answered,  Sir,  I  perceive,  by  the  book  in  my 
hand,  that  I  am  condemned  to  die,  and  after  that  to 
come  to  judgment ;  and  I  find  that  I  am  not  willing 
to  do  the  first,  nor  able  to  do  the  second. 

Then  said  Evangelist,  Why  not  willing  to  die,  since 
this  life  is  attended  with  so  many  evils  ?  The  man 

18 


CHRISTIAN    WALKING    IN    THE    FIE1LC 
lie  teas  (as  he  teas  wont)  reading  in  his  book. 


EVANGELIST  DIRECTS  HIM 

answered,  Because  I  fear  that  this  burden  that  is  upon 
my  back  will  sink  me  lower  than  the  grave,  and  I  shall 
fall  into  Tophet.  And,  sir,  if  I  be  not  fit  to  go  to 
prison,  I  am  not  fit  to  go  to  judgment,  and  from  thence 
to  execution;  and  the  thoughts  of  these  things  make 
me  cry. 

Then  said  Evangelist,  If  this  be  thy  condition,  why 
standest  thou  still  ?   He  answered,  Because     conviction  of  the 
I  know  not  whither  to  go.    Then  he  gave     necessity  of  flying 
him  a  parchment  roll,  and  there  was  written  within,  Fly 
from  the  wrath  to  come. 

The  man  therefore  read  it,  and,  looking  upon  Evangelist 
very  carefully,  said,  Whither  must  I  fly  ?  Then  said 
Evangelist  pointing  with  his  finger  over  a  very  wide 
field,  Do  you  see  yonder  Wicket-gate  ?  The  man  said, 
No.  Then  said  the  other,  Do  you  see 
yonder  shining  light?  He  said,  I  think  $%&•£%&' 
I  do.  Then  said  Evangelist,  Keep  that  found  without  the 
light  in  your  eye,  and  go  up  directly 
thereto,  so  shalt  thou  see  the  gate ;  at  which,  when 
thou  knockest,  it  shall  be  told  thee  what  thou  shalt 
do.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  man  began  to 
run.  Now  he  had  not  run  far  from  his  own  door, 
but  his  wife  and  children,  perceiving  it,  began  to  cry 
after  him  to  return ;  but  the  man  put  his  fingers  in 
his  ears,  and  ran  on,  crying,  Life !  life !  eternal  life ! 
So  he  looked  not  behind  him,  but  fled  towards  the  middle 
of  the  plain. 

The  neighbours  also  came  out  to  see  him  run  5  and  as 
he  ran  some  mocked,  others  threatened, 
and  some  cried  after  him  to  return  5  and 
among  those  that  did  so,  there  were  two 
that  were  resolved  to  fetch  him  back  by 
force.  The  name  of  the  one  was  Obstinate,  and  the  name 
of  the  other  Pliable.  Now  by  this  time  obstinate  and 
the  man  was  got  a  good  distance  from  Pliable  follow  him 
them ;  but  however  they  were  resolved  to  pursue  him, 
which  they  did,  and  in  a  little  time  they  overtook  him. 

19 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Then  said  the  man,  Neighbours,  wherefore  are  you  come? 
They  said,  To  persuade  you  to  go  back  with  us.  But  he 
said,  That  can  by  no  means  be :  you  dwell,  said  he,  in  the 
City  of  Destruction,  the  place  also  where  I  was  born :  I 
see  it  to  be  so;  and  dying  there,  sooner  or  later  you  will 
sink  lower  than  the  grave,  into  a  place  that  burns  with 
fire  and  brimstone :  be  content,  good  neighbours,  and  go 
along  with  me. 

Obst.  What !  said  Obstinate,  and  leave  our  friends  and 
our  comforts  behind  us  ! 

Chr.  Yes,  said  Christian  (for  that  was  his  name), 
because  that  all  which  you  shall  forsake  is  not  worthy 
to  be  compared  with  a  little  of  that  I  am  seeking  to  enjoy ; 
and  if  you  will  go  along  with  me,  and  hold  it,  you  shall 
fare  as  I  myself;  for  there,  where  I  go,  is  enough  and  to 
spare.  Come  away,  and  prove  my  words. 

Obst.  What  are  the  things  you  seek,  since  you  leave 
all  the  world  to  find  them  ? 

Chr.  I  seek  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away ;  and  it  is  laid  up  in  heaven,  and 
safe  there,  to  be  bestowed,  at  the  time  appointed,  on  them 
that  diligently  seek  it.  Read  it  so,  if  you  will,  in  my 
book. 

Obst.  Tush,  said  Obstinate,  away  with  your  book; 
will  you  go  back  with  us  or  no  ? 

Chr.  No,  not  I,  said  the  other,  because  I  have  laid  my 
hand  to  the  plough. 

Obst.  Come  then,  neighbour  Pliable,  let  us  turn 
again,  and  go  home  without  him :  there  is  a  company  of 
these  crazy-headed  coxcombs,  that  when  they  take  a  fancy 
by  the  end,  are  wiser  in  their  own  eyes  than  seven  men 
that  can  render  a  reason. 

Pli.  Then  said  Pliable,  Don't  revile ;  if  what  the  good 
Christian  says  is  true,  the  things  he  looks  after  are  better 
than  ours :  my  heart  inclines  to  go  with  my  neighbour. 

Obst.  What !  more  fools  still !  Be  ruled  by  me,  and 
go  back;  who  knows  whither  such  a  brain-sick  fellow 
will  lead  you  ?  Go  back,  go  back,  and  be  wise. 

20 


OBSTINATE  GOES  BACK 

Chf.  Come  with  thy  neighbour,  Pliable;  there  are 
such  things  to  be  had  which  I  spoke  r.  .  .  .  _. 

r  «  t       •  i  rr       Christian  and  Ob- 

or,  and  many  more  glories   besides.     It     stinate^uiifor 
you  believe  not   me,   read   here  in   this 
book;   and  for  the  truth  of  what  is  expressed   therein, 
behold,   all   is   confirmed    by   the    blood   of    Him    that 
made  it. 

Pli.     Well,  neighbour  Obstinate,  saith  Pliable,  I  begin 
to  come  to  a  point;  I  intend  to  go  along     Pliable contented 
with  this  good  man,  and  to  cast  in  my  lot     togowithChris- 
with  him :  but,  my   good  companion,   do 
you  know  the  way  to  this  desired  place? 

Chr.  I  am  directed  by  a  man,  whose  name  is  Evan- 
gelist, to  speed  me  to  a  little  gate  that  is  before  us,  where 
we  shall  receive  instruction  about  the  way. 

Pli.  Come  then,  good  neighbour,  let  us  be  going. 
Then  they  went  both  together. 

Obst.     And  I  will  go  back  to  my  place,  said  Obstinate : 
I   will  be  no  companion  of  such  misled,     obstinate  goes 
fantastical  fellows.  railing  back 

Now  I  saw  in  my   dream,  that  when  Obstinate  was 
gone   back,   Christian   and    Pliable   went     Talk  between 
talking  over  the  plain ;  and  thus  they  be-     Christian  and 

,6  .      ,.  J  Pliable 

gan  their  discourse. 

Chr.  Come,  neighbour  Pliable,  how  do  you  do  ?  I 
am  glad  you  are  persuaded  to  go  along  with  me.  Had 
even  Obstinate  himself  but  felt  what  I  have  felt  of  the 
powers  and  terrors  of  what  is  yet  unseen,  he  would  not 
thus  lightly  have  given  us  the  back. 

Pli.  Come,  neighbour  Christian,  since  there  are  none 
but  us  two  here,  tell  me  now  further,  what  the  things  are, 
and  how  to  be  enjoyed,  whither  we  are  going. 

Chr.     I  can   better   conceive  of  them  with  my  mind 
than  speak  of  them  with  my  tongue:  but     God's  things  un. 
yet,  since  you  are  desirous  to  know,  I  will     speakabie 
read  of  them  in  my  book. 

Pli.  And  do  you  think  that  the  words  of  your  book 
are  certainly  true  ? 

21 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.  Yes,  verily  ;  for  it  was  made  by  Him  that 
cannot  lie. 

Pli.     Well  said ;  what  things  are  they  ? 

Chr.  There  is  an  endless  kingdom  to  be  inhabited, 
and  everlasting  life  to  be  given  us,  that  we  may  inhabit 
that  kingdom  for  ever. 

Pli.     Well  said  ;  and  what  else  ? 

I          Chr.     There  are  crowns  of  glory  to  be  given  us ;  and 
v      garments  that  will  make  us  shine  like  the  sun  in  the  firma- 
ment of  heaven. 

Pli.     This  is  excellent  ;  and  what  else  ? 

Chr.  There  shall  be  no  more  crying,  nor  sorrow :  for 
He  that  is  owner  of  the  place  will  wipe  all  tears  from  our 
eyes. 

Pli.     And  what  company  shall  we  have  there  ? 

Chr.  There  we  shall  be  with  seraphims  and  cheru- 
bims ;  creatures  that  will  dazzle  your  eyes  to  look  on 
them.  There  also  you  shall  meet  with  thousands  and 
ten  thousands  that  have  gone  before  us  to  that  place ; 
none  of  them  are  hurtful,  but  loving  and  holy ; 
every  one  walking  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  standing 
in  His  presence  with  acceptance  for  ever.  In  a  word, 
there  we  shall  see  the  elders  with  their  golden 
crowns ;  there  we  shall  see  the  holy  virgins  with  their 
golden  harps;  there  we  shall  see  men,  that  by  the 
world  were  cut  in  pieces,  burnt  in  flames,  eaten  of 
beasts,  drowned  in  the  seas,  for  the  love  they  bare 
to  the  Lord  of  the  place;  all  well,  and  clothed  with 
immortality  as  with  a  garment. 

Pli.  The  hearing  of  this  is  enough  to  ravish  one's 
heart.  But  are  these  things  to  be  enjoyed  ?  How  shall 
we  get  to  be  sharers  hereof? 

Chr.     The  Lord,   the  governor  of  the  country,  hath 
recorded  that  in  this  book;   the  substance  of  which  is, 
\       If  we  be  truly  willing  to  have  it,  He  will  bestow  it  upon 
us  freely. 

Pli.  Well,  my  good  companion,  glad  am  I  to  hear  of 
these  things :  come  on,  let  us  mend  our  pace. 

22 


THE  SLOUGH  OF  DESPOND 

Chr.     I  cannot  go  so  fast  as  I  would,  by  reason  of  this 
burden  that  is  on  my  back. 

Now    I    saw   in    my    dream,    that   just    as    they   had 
ended  this  talk,  they  drew  nigh  to  a  very  miry  slough, 
that   was   in    the   midst  of  the   plain;    and   they   being 
heedless,  did  both  fall  suddenly  into  the     TheSioughof 
bog.       The    name    of    the    slough    was     Despond 
Despond.     Here,  therefore,  they  wallowed  for   a   time, 
being   grievously   bedaubed    with   dirt ;    and    Christian, 
because  of  the  burden  that  was  on  his  back,  began   to 
sink  in  the  mire. 

Pli.      Then    said    Pliable,    Ah,    neighbour   Christian, 
where  are  you  now? 

Chr.     Truly,  said  Christian,  I  do  not  know. 

Pli.  At  this  Pliable  began  to  be  offended,  and  angrily 
said  to  his  fellow,  Is  this  the  happiness  you  have  told  me 
all  this  while  of?  If  we  have  such  ill  speed  at  our  first 
setting  out,  what  may  we  expect  'twixt  this  and  our 
journey's  end  ?  May  I  get  out  again  with  it  is  not  enough 
my  life,  you  shall  possess  the  brave  to  be  Pliable 
country  alone  for  me.  And  with  that  he  gave  a 
desperate  struggle  or  two,  and  got  out  of  the  mire 
on  that  side  of  the  slough  which  was  next  to  his  own 
house :  so  away  he  went,  and  Christian  saw  him  no 
more. 

Wherefore  Christian  was  left  to  tumble  in  the  Slough 
of  Despond  alone :  but  still  he  endea- 

.  r  i  •  j  r      i  Christian,  in 

voured  to  struggle  to  that  side  of  the  trouble,  seeks  still 
slough  that  was  further  from  his  own  &*%±££>*** 
house,  and  next  to  the  Wicket-gate  ;  the 
which  he  did,  but  could  not  get  out  because  of  the  burden 
that  was  upon  his  back :  but  I  beheld  in  my  dream,  that  a 
man  came  to  him,  whose  name  was  Help,  and  asked  him, 
What  he  did  there  ? 

Chr.  Sir,  said  Christian,  I  was  bid  to  go  this  way  by  a 
man  called  Evangelist,  who  directed  me  also  to  yonder 
gate,  that  I  might  escape  the  wrath  to  come.  And  as  I 
was  going  thither,  I  fell  in  here. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Help.     But  why  did  not  you  look  for  the  steps  ? 

Chr.     Fear  followed  me  so  hard,  that 
I  fled  the  next  way,  and  fell  in. 
Help.     Then  said  he,  Give  me  thy  hand :  so  he  gave 

him  his  hand,  and  he  drew  him  out,  and 
Help  lifts  him  out  ,  .  j  j  i_«j  i_- 

set  him  upon  sound  ground,  and  bid  him 
go  on  his  way. 

Then  I  stepped  to  him  that  plucked  him  out,  and  said, 
Sir,  wherefore,  since  over  this  place  is  the  way  from  the 
City  of  Destruction  to  yonder  gate,  is  it  that  this  plat  is 
not  mended,  that  poor  travellers  might  go  thither  with 
more  security  ?  And  he  said  unto  me,  This  miry  slough 
What  makes  the  is  such  a  place  as  cannot  be  mended  :  it  is 
Slough  of  Despond  the  descent  whither  the  scum  and  filth 
that  attends  conviction  for  sin  doth  continually  run,  and 
therefore  it  was  called  the  Slough  of  Despond ;  for  still  as 
the  sinner  is  awakened  about  his  lost  condition,  there  arise 
in  his  soul  many  fears  and  doubts,  and  discouraging  appre- 
hensions, which  all  of  them  get  together,  and  settle  in  this 
place.  And  this  is  the  reason  of  the  badness  of  this  ground. 

It  is  not  the  pleasure  of  the  King  that  this  place  should 
remain  so  bad.  His  labourers  also  have,  by  the  directions 
of  his  Majesty's  surveyors,  been  for  above  these  sixteen 
hundreds  years  employed  about  this  patch  of  ground,  if 
perhaps  it  might  have  been  mended :  yea,  and  to  my  know- 
ledge, said  he,  here  hath  been  swallowed  up  at  least  twenty 
thousand  cart-loads,  yea,  millions  of  wholesome  instructions, 
that  have  at  all  seasons  been  brought  from  all  places  of  the 
King's  dominions  (and  they  that  can  tell,  say,  they  are  the 
best  materials  to  make  good  ground  of  the  place),  if  so  be  it 
might  have  been  mended  5  but  it  is  the  Slough  of  Despond 
still,  and  so  will  be  when  they  have  done  what  they  can. 

True,  there  are,  by  the   direction  of  the   Lawgiver, 

certain  good  and  substantial  steps,  placed 

S|i?en™sIeiSd        even    through    the   very   midst    of    this 

acceptance  to  life      slough :  but  at  such  time  as   this    place 

by  faith  in  Christ  ~,  , 

doth  much  spew  out  its  filth,  as  it  doth 
against  change  of  weather,  these  steps  are  hardly  seen ; 

24 


THE    SLOUGH   OP   DESPOND 

So  ht  gave  him  his  hand,  and  he  drew  him  out,  and  set  him  upon 
ftound  ground,  and  bid  him  go  on  his  way. 


PLIABLE  GETS  HOME 

or  if  they  be,  men,  through  the  dizziness  of  their  heads, 
step  besides,  and  then  they  are  bemired  to  purpose,  not- 
withstanding the  steps  be  there  ;  but  the  ground  is  good 
when  they  are  once  got  in  at  the  gate. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this 
time  Pliable  was  got  home  to  his  house,     home,  and  is 
So  his  neighbours  came  to  visit  him  ;  and     J2ghbobislis  His 
some  of  them  called  him   wise   man  for     themSlTs^eturn 
coming  back,  and  some  called  him  fool  for 
hazarding  himself  with  Christian :  others  again  did  mock 
at  his   cowardliness;    saying,    Surely,    since   you    began 
to   venture,   I   would   not   have   been   so   base   to   have 
given  out  for  a  few  difficulties  :  so  Pliable  sat  sneaking 
among  them.     But  at  last  he  got  more  confidence,  and 
then  they  all  turned  their  tales,  and  began  to  deride  poor 
Christian  behind  his  back.      And  thus  much  concerning 
Pliable. 

Now  as  Christian  was  walking  solitarily  by  himself,  he 
espied  one  afar  off,  come  crossing  over  the  field  to  meet 
him;  and  their  hap  was  to  meet  just  as  WorldIyWise. 
they  were  crossing  the  way  of  each  other,  man  meets  with 
The  gentleman's  name  that  met  him  was 
Mr  Worldly  Wiseman :  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Carnal 
Policy,  a  very  great  town,  and  also  hard-by  from  whence 
Christian  came.  This  man  then,  meeting  with  Christian, 
and  having  some  inkling  of  him  (for  Christian's  setting 
forth  from  the  City  of  Destruction  was  much  noised 
abroad,  not  only  in  the  town  where  he  dwelt,  but  also 
it  began  to  be  the  town  talk  in  some  other  places), — Mr 
Worldly  Wiseman,  therefore,  having  some  guess  of  him, 
by  beholding  his  laborious  going,  by  observing  his  sighs 
and  groans,  and  the  like,  began  thus  to  enter  into  some 
talk  with  Christian. 

World.       How     now,    good    fellow      Taik  betwixt  Mr 
whither  away  after  this  burdened  manner  ?    Worldly  Wiseman 

Chr.  A  burdened  manner,  indeed,   as    and 
ever  I  think  poor  creature  had  !     And  whereas  you  ask 
me,  Whither  away  ?     I  tell  you,  sir,  I  am  going  to  yonder 

25 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Wicket-gate  before  me ;  for  there,  as  I  am  informed, 
I  shall  be  put  into  a  way  to  be  rid  of  my  heavy  burden. 

World.     Hast  thou  a  wife  and  children  ? 

Chr.  Yes  ;  but  I  am  so  laden  with  this  burden,  that 
I  cannot  take  that  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly  :  methinks 
I  am  as  if  I  had  none. 

World.  "Wilt  thou  hearken  to  me  if  I  give  thee 
counsel  ? 

Chr.  If  it  be  good,  I  will ;  for  I  stand  in  need  of  good 
counsel. 

World.     I  would  advise  thee  then,  that  thou  with  all 

worldly  Wise-         sPeed  8et  thyself  rid  of  thy  burden  ;  for 

man's  counsel  thou  wilt  never  be  settled  in  thy  mind  till 

then  :  nor  canst  thou  enjoy  the  benefits  of 

the  blessings  which  God  hath  bestowed  upon  thee,  till  then. 

Chr.  That  is  that  which  I  seek  for,  even  to  be  rid  of 
this  heavy  burden :  but  get  it  off  myself  I  cannot ;  nor 
is  there  any  man  in  our  country  that  can  take  it  off  my 
shoulders  ;  therefore  am  I  going  this  way,  as  I  told  you, 
that  I  may  be  rid  of  my  burden. 

World.  Who  bid  thee  go  this  way  to  be  rid  of  thy 
burden  ? 

Chr.  A  man  that  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  very  great 
and  honourable  person :  his  name,  as  I  remember,  is 
Evangelist. 

World.  I  beshrew  him  for  his  counsel !  there  is  not 
a  more  dangerous  and  troublesome  way  in 
the  world  than  is  that  unto  which  he  hath 
directed  thee  ;  and  that  thou  shalt  find,  if 
thou  wilt  be  ruled  by  his  counsel.  Thou 
hast  met  with  something,  as  I  perceive,  already  ;  for  I  see 
the  dirt  of  the  Slough  of  Despond  is  upon  thee ;  but  that 
slough  is  the  beginning  of  the  sorrows  that  do  attend 
those  that  go  on  in  that  way.  Hear  me ;  I  am  older  than 
thou :  thou  art  like  to  meet  with,  in  the  way  which  thou 
goest,  wearisomeness,  painfulness,  hunger,  perils,  naked- 
ness, sword,  lions,  dragons,  darkness,  and,  in  a  word, 
death,  and  what  not.  These  things  are  certainly  true, 

26 


WORLDLY  WISEMAN 

having  been  confirmed  by  many  testimonies.  And  should 
a  man  so  carelessly  cast  away  himself,  by  giving  heed 
to  a  stranger  ? 

Chr.     Why,  sir,  this  burden  upon  my  back  is  more 
terrible   to   me   than   all   these  .things    which   you  have 
mentioned  :  nay,  methinks  I  care  not  what     The  frame  of  the 
I  meet  with  in  the  way,  if  so  be  I  can  also     heart  of  a  young 
meet  with  deliverance  from  my  burden. 

World.     How  earnest  thou  by  thy  burden  at  first  ? 

Chr.     By  reading  this  book  in  my  hand. 

World.  I  thought  so  •,  and  it  is  happened  unto  thee 
as  to  other  weak  men,  who,  meddling  with  Worldly  Wiseman 
things  too  high  for  them,  do  suddenly  fall  does  not  like  that 

°,        ..       &     .  i  •    i     j.  •  men  should  be 

into  thy  distractions  ;  which  distractions  do     serious  in  reading: 
not  only  unman  men,  as  thine  I  perceive     the  Blble 
have  done  thee,  but  they  run  them  upon  desperate  ventures 
to  obtain  they  know  not  what. 

Chr.  I  know  what  I  would  obtain ;  it  is  ease  from  my 
heavy  burden. 

World.  But  why  wilt  thou  seek  for  ease  this  way, 
seeing  so  many  dangers  attend  it  ?  especially  since  (hadst 
thou  but  patience  to  hear  me)  I  could  direct  thee  to  the 
obtaining  of  what  thou  desirest,  without  the  dangers  that 
thou  in  this  way  wilt  run  thyself  into  ?  Yea,  and  the 
remedy  is  at  hand.  Besides,  I  will  add,  that  instead  of 
those  dangers,  thou  shalt  meet  with  much  safety,  friend- 
ship, and  content. 

Chr.     Sir,  I  pray  open  this  secret  to  me. 

World.     Why,  in  yonder  village  (the  village  is  named 
Morality)    there    dwells    a    gentleman    whose    name    is 
Legality,  a  very  judicious   man,  and   a   man  of  a   very 
good  name,  that  has  skill  to  help  men  off    Whether  Mr 
with    such    burdens    as    thine   are   from     Worldly  Wiseman 
their  shoulders;  yea,   to  my  knowledge,     Kfore^strait 
he  hath  done  a  great  deal  of  good  this     *ate 
way ;  ay,  and  besides,  he  hath  skill  to  cure  those  that 
are  somewhat   crazed  in  their  wits  with  their  burdens. 
To    him,    as    I    said,    thou    mayest    go,    and    be    helped 

27 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

presently.  His  house  is  not  quite  a  mile  from  this 
place ;  and  if  he  should  not  be  at  home  himself,  he  hath 
a  pretty  young  man  to  his  son,  whose  name  is  Civility, 
that  can  do  it  (to  speak  on)  as  well  as  the  old  gentleman 
himself:  there,  I  say,  thou  mayest  be  eased  of  thy 
burden;  and  if  thou  art  not  minded  to  go  back  to  thy 
former  habitation,  as  indeed  I  would  not  wish  thee, 
thou  mayest  send  for  thy  wife  and  children  to  thee  to 
this  village,  where  there  are  houses  now  standing  empty, 
one  of  which  thou  mayest  have  at  reasonable  rates : 
provision  is  there  also  cheap  and  good;  and  that  which 
will  make  thy  life  the  more  happy  is,  to  be  sure  there 
thou  shalt  live  by  honest  neighbours,  in  credit  and  good 
fashion. 

Now  was  Christian  somewhat  at  a  stand ;  but  presently 
_,.  .  .  he  concluded,  If  this  be  true  which  this 

Christian  snared  .       .          .  . 

by  Mr  Worldly         gentleman  hath  said,  my  wisest  course  is 

Wiseman'swords        tQ  take  ^  ^fa  .    and    with   that  he  thus 

further  spoke. 

Chr.  Sir,  which  is  my  way  to  this  honest  man's  house  ? 
Mount  Sinai  World.  Do  you  see  yonder  high  hill  ? 

Chr.     Yes,  very  well. 

World.  By  that  hill  you  must  go,  and  the  first  house 
you  come  at  is  his. 

So  Christian  turned  out  of  his  way  to  go  to  Mr  Legality's 
house  for  help  ;  but  behold,  when  he  was 
t^MoSnfs'nai  got  now  hard  by  the  hill,  it  seemed  so 
head1  faU  °n  his  ^g^  and  also  that  side  of  it  that  was  next 
the  way-side  did  hang  so  much  over,  that 
Christian  was  afraid  to  venture  farther,  lest  the  hill  should 
fall  on  his  head ;  wherefore  there  he  stood  still,  and 
wotted  not  what  to  do.  Also  his  burden  now  seemed 
heavier  to  him  than  while  he  was  in  his  way.  There 
came  also  flashes  of  fire  out  of  the  hill,  that  made 
Christian  afraid  that  he  should  be  burned:  here  there- 
fore he  sweat,  and  did  quake  for  fear.  And  now 
he  began  to  be  sorry  that  he  had  taken  Mr  Worldly 
Wiseman's  counsel  5  and  with  that  he  saw  Evangelist 

28 


CHRISTIAN  AT  MOUNT  SINAI 

coming  to  meet  him,  at  the  sight  also  of  whom  he  began 
to  blush  for  shame.     So  Evangelist  drew 

,  ,  .       °  .  .  rtvanpcust  findetb 

nearer  and  nearer ;  and  coming  up  to  him,     Christian  under 
he  looked  upon  him  with  a  severe  and  dread- 
ful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to  reason     uP°n  him 
with  Christian. 

Evan.  What  dost  thou  here,  Christian  ?  said  he :  at 
which  words  Christian  knew  not  what  to  „ 

i          r  •  •        Evangelist 

answer;   wherefore   at  present  he  stood     reasons  afresh 
speechless  before  him.     Then  said  Evan-     WIth  Chnstiau 
gelist  further,  Art  not  thou  the  man  that  I  found  crying 
without  the  walls  of  the  City  of  Destruction  ? 

[Chr.     Yes,  dear  sir,  I  am  the  man. 

Evan.  Did  not  I  direct  thee  the  way  to  the  little 
Wicket-gate  ? 

Chr.     Yes,  dear  sir,  said  Christian.] l 

Evan.  How  is  it  then  that  thou  art  so  quickly  turned 
aside  ?  For  thou  art  now  out  of  the  way. 

Chr.  I  met  with  a  gentleman  so  soon  as  I  had  got  over 
the  Slough  of  Despond,  who  persuaded  me  that  I  might,  in  the 
village  before  me,  find  a  man  that  could  take  off  my  burden. 

Evan.     What  was  he  ? 

Chr.  He  looked  like  a  gentleman,  and  talked  much  to 
me,  and  got  me  at  last  to  yield:  so  I  came  hither;  but 
when  I  beheld  this  hill,  and  how  it  hangs  over  the  way,  I 
suddenly  made  a  stand ;  lest  it  should  fall  on  my  head. 

Evan.     What  said  that  gentleman  to  you  ? 

Chr.  Why,  he  asked  me  whither  I  was  going ;  and  I 
told  him. 

Evan.     And  what  said  he  then? 

Chr.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  a  family :  and  I  told  him. 
But,  said  I,  I  am  so  laden  with  the  burden  that  is  on  my 
back,  that  I  cannot  take  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly. 

Evan.     And  what  said  he  then  ? 

Chr.  He  bid  me  with  speed  get  rid  of  my  burden ; 
and  I  told  him  'twas  ease  that  I  sought :  And,  said  I,  I 

1  The  words  in  [  ]  are  in  the  third  edition,  but  not  in  the  eleventh. 
This  fact,  and  also  internal  evidence,  would  favour  their  omission, 

29 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

am  therefore  going  to  yonder  gate,  to  receive  further 
direction  how  I  may  get  to  the  place  of  deliverance.  So 
he  said  that  he  would  show  me  a  better  way,  and 
short,  not  so  attended  with  difficulties  as  the  way,  sir, 
that  you  set  me  ;  which  way,  said  he,  will  direct  you  to  a 
gentleman's  house  that  hath  skill  to  take  off  these  burdens  : 
so  I  believed  him,  and  turned  out  of  that  way  into  this,  if 
haply  I  might  be  soon  eased  of  my  burden.  But  when  I  came 
to  this  place,  and  beheld  things  as  they  are,  I  stopped,  for 
fear  (as  I  said)  of  danger :  but  I  now  know  not  what  to  do. 
Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist,  Stand  still  a  littie,  that  I 

Evan  elist  m*J  S^OW  t^iee  t^ie  words  of  God.       So  he 

convinces  Chris-  stood  trembling.  Then  said  Evangelist, 
See  that  ye  refuse  not  Him  that  speaketh: 
for  if  they  escaped  not  who  refused  him  that  spake  on 
earth,  much  more  shall  not  we  escape,  if  we  turn  away 
from  Him  that  speaketh  from  heaven.  He  said,  moreover, 
Now  the  just  shall  live  by  faith ;  but  if  any  man  draw  back, 
My  soul  shall  have  no  pleasure  in  him.  He  also  did  thus 
apply  them ;  Thou  art  the  man  that  art  running  into  this 
misery ;  thou  hast  begun  to  reject  the  counsel  of  the  Most 
High,  and  to  draw  back  thy  foot  from  the  way  of  peace, 
even  almost  to  the  hazarding  of  thy  perdition. 

Then  Christian  fell  down  at  his  foot  as  dead,  crying,  Woe 
is  me,  for  I  am  undone  !  At  the  sight  of  which  Evangelist 
caught  him  by  the  right  hand,  saying,  All  manner  of  sin  and 
blasphemies  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men.  Be  not  faithless, 
but  believing.  Then  did  Christian  again  a  little  revive, 
and  stood  up  trembling,  as  at  first,  before  Evangelist. 

Then  Evangelist  proceeded,  saying,  Give  more  earnest 

heed  to  the  things  that  I  shall  tell  thee  of.     I  will  now 

show  thee  who  it  was  that  deluded  thee,  and  who  it  was 

also  to  whom  he  sent  thee.     The  man  that  met  thee  is  one 

"Worldly  Wiseman ;  and  rightly  is  he  so 

Mr  Worldly  Wise-  „     ,      J         .       ,  i        r  i 

man  described  by     called;  partly  because  he  favoureth   only 
Evangelist  ^   doctrine  of  this  world  (therefore  he 

always  goes  to  the  town  of  Morality  to  church) ;  and  partly 
because  he  loveth  that  doctrine  best,  for  it  saveth  him  best 


WORLDLY  WISEMAN  DESCRIBED 

from  the  cross :  and  because  he  is  of  this  carnal  temper, 
therefore  he  seeketh  to  pervert  my  ways,     Evangelist  dis- 
though  right.     Now  there  are  three  things     £?  MrSWori<SyCit 
in    this    man's    counsel   that    thou    must      Wiseman 
utterly  abhor. 
/^J.  His  turning  thee  out  of  the  way. 

2.  His  labouring  to  render  the  cross  odious  to  thee. 

3.  And  his  setting  thy  feet  in  that  way  that  leadeth 
unto  the  administration  of  death. 

First,  Thou  must  abhor  his  turning  thee  out  of  the 
way;  yea,  and  thine  own  consenting  thereto;  because 
this  is  to  reject  the  counsel  of  God  for  the  sake  of  the 
counsel  of  a  Worldly  Wiseman.  The  Lord  says,  Strive 
to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate ;  the  gate  to  which  I  send 
thee ;  for  strait  is  the  gate  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and 
few  there  be  that  find  it.  From  this  little  Wicket-gate, 
and  from  the  way  thereto,  hath  this  wicked  man  turned 
thee,  to  the  bringing  of  thee  almost  to  destruction :  hate, 
therefore,  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way,  and  abhor 
thyself  for  hearkening  to  himTj 

Secondly,  Thou  must  abnor  his  labouring  to  render  the 
cross  odious  unto  thee ;  for  thou  art  to  prefer  it  before  the 
treasures  of  Egypt.  Besides,  the  King  of  glory  hath  told 
thee,  that  he  that  will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it.  And  he 
that  comes  after  Him,  and  hates  not  his  father,  and  mother, 
and  wife,  and  children,  and  brethren,  and  sisters,  yea,  and 
his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  His  disciple.  I  say,  there- 
fore, for  man  to  labour  to  persuade  thee  that  that  shall  be 
thy  death,  without  which,  the  truth  hath  said,  thou  canst 
not  have  eternal  life :  this  doctrine  thou  must  abhorl^ 

Thiidly,  Thou  must  hate  his  setting  of  thy  feet  in  the 
way  that  leadeth  to  the  ministration  of  death.     And  for 
this  thou  must  consider  to  whom  he  sent  thee,  and  also      / 
how  unable  that  person  was  to  deliver  thee  from  thy  burden^  If 

He  to  whom  thou  wast  sent  for  ease, 
being  by  name  Legality,  is  the  son  of  the 
bond-woman  which  now  is,  and  is  in  bondage  with  her 
children ;  and  is,  in  a  mystery,  this  Mount  Sinai,  which 

3* 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

thou  hast  feared  will  fall  on  thy  head.  Now  if  she 
with  her  children  are  in  bondage,  how  canst  thou 
expect  by  them  to  be  made  free  ?  This  Legality, 
therefore,  is  not  able  to  set  thee  free  from  thy  burden. 
No  man  was  as  yet  ever  rid  of  his  burden  to  him ;  no, 
nor  ever  is  like  to  be:  ye  cannot  be  justified  by  the 
works  of  the  law;  for  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no 
man  living  can  be  rid  of  his  burden.  Therefore  Mr 
Worldly  Wiseman  is  an  alien,  and  Mr  Legality  is  a  cheat ; 
and  for  his  son  Civility,  notwithstanding  his  simpering 
looks,  he  is  but  a  hypocrite,  and  cannot  help  thee.  Believe 
me,  there  is  nothing  in  all  this  noise  that  thou  hast  heard 
of  these  sottish  men,  but  a  design  to  beguile  thee  of  thy 
salvation,  by  turning  thee  from  the  way  in  which  I  had 
set  thee.  After  this,  Evangelist  called  aloud  to  the 
heavens  for  confirmation  of  what  he  had  said ;  and  with 
that  there  came  words  and  fire  out  of  the  mountain  under 
which  poor  Christian  stood,  that  made  the  hair  of  his 
flesh  stand  up.  The  words  were  thus  pronounced,  As 
many  as  are  of  the  works  of  the  law  are  under  the  curse ; 
for  it  is  written,  Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not 
in  all  things  which  are  written  in  the  book  of  the  law  to 
do  them. 

Now  Christian  looked  for  nothing  but  death,  and  began 
to  cry  out  lamentably  ;  even  cursing  the  time  in  which  he 
met  with  Mr  Worldly  Wiseman ;  still  calling  himself  a 
thousand  fools  for  hearkening  to  his  counsel.  He  also 
was  greatly  ashamed  to  think  that  this  gentleman's 
arguments,  flowing  only  from  the  flesh,  should  have  the 
prevalency  with  him  as  to  cause  him  to  forsake  the 
right  way.  This  done,  he  applied  himself  again  to 
Evangelist  in  words  and  sense  as  follows. 

Chr.  Sir,  what  think  you  ?  Is  there  any  hope  ?  May 
I  now  go  back,  and  go  up  to  the  Wicket-gate?  shall 
Christian  in  uired  '  not  ^e  abandoned  for  this,  and  sent  back 
if  n?may  ySSbe  from  thence  ashamed  ?  I  am  sorry  I  have 
bappy  hearkened  to  this  man's  counsel ;  but  may 

my  sins  be  forgiven  ? 

32 


CHRISTIAN  AT  THE  GATE 

Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist  to  him,  Thy  sin  is  very 
great,  for  by  it  thou  hast  committed  two  evils;  thou 
hast  forsaken  the  way  that  is  good,  to  tread  in  forbidden 
paths.  Yet  will  the  man  at  the  gate  Evangelist  com- 
receive  thee,  for  he  has  goodwill  for  forts  him 
men ;  only,  said  he,  take  heed  that  thou  turn  not  aside 
again,  lest  thou  perish  from  the  way,  when  His  wrath 
is  kindled  but  a  little.  Then  did  Christian  address 
himself  to  go  back ;  and  Evangelist,  after  he  had  kissed 
him,  gave  him  one  smile,  and  bid  him  God-speed ;  so 
he  went  on  with  haste,  neither  spake  he  to  any  man  by 
the  way ;  nor  if  any  asked  him,  would  he  vouchsafe  them 
an  answer.  He  went  like  one  that  was  all  the  while 
treading  on  forbidden  ground,  and  could  by  no  means 
think  himself  safe,  till  again  he  was  got  into  the  way 
which  he  had  left  to  follow  Mr  Worldly  Wiseman's 
counsel ;  so  in  process  of  time  Christian  got  up  to  the 
gate.  Now  over  the  gate  there  was  written,  Knock, 
and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you. 

He  knocked,  therefore,  more  than  once  or  twice, 
saying, 

May  I  now  enter  here?     Will  he  within 
Open  to  sorry  me,  though  I  have  been 
An  undeserving  rebel  ?     Then  shall  I 
Not  fail  to  sing  his  lasting  praise  on  high. 

At  last  there  came  a  grave  person  to  the  gate,  named 
.  Goodwill,  who  asked  who  was  there,  and  whence  he 
came,  and  what  he  would  have. 

Chr.  Here  is  a  poor  burdened  sinner.  I  come  from 
the  City  of  Destruction,  but  am  going  to  Mount  Zion,  that 
I  may  be  delivered  from  the  wrath  to  come  :  I  would 
therefore,  sir,  since  I  am  informed  that  by  this  gate  is 
the  way  thither,  know  if  you  are  willing  to  let  me  in. 

Good.  I  am  willing  with  all  my  heart,  said  he :  and 
with  that  he  opened  the  gate.  The  gate  wffl  be 

So  when  Christian  was  stepping  in,  the     opened  to  broken- 

,.  ,,      .— .          r  T ,  S.     .     .  hearted  sinners 

other  gave  him  a  pull,     i  hen  said  Christian, 

What  means  that  ?     The  other  told  him,  A  little  distance 

33  c 


that  come  UP  to  this 

may  die  before  they  can  enter  in.     Then 

Christian  enters  •  j  /-,«     •  T         •    •  j  1.  1  r« 

the  gate  with  joy     said  Christian,  I  rejoice  and  tremble.     So 

and  trembling  when   he  wag       Qt  jn    the   man  Qf  ^Q 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

from  this  gate,  there  is  erected  a  strong  castle,  of  which 
.j^     Beelzebub  is  the  captain  :  from  thence  both  he  and  they 
Satan  envies  those     t^iat  are  witn  him  shoot  arrows  at  those 


asked  him  who  directed  him  thither. 

Chr.     Evangelist  bid  me  come  hither 

1  alk  between  ,    ,  ,  °T     ...  _    ,  .  -        , 

Goodwill  and  and  knock,  as  I  did  :  and  he  said,  that 

you,  sir,  would  tell  me  what  I  must  do. 

Good.  An  open  door  is  set  before  thee,  and  no  man 
can  shut  it. 

Chr.     Now  I  begin  to  reap  the  benefits  of  my  hazards. 

Good.     But  how  is  it  that  you  came  alone  ? 

Chr.  Because  none  of  my  neighbours  saw  their  danger, 
as  I  saw  mine. 

Good.     Did  any  of  them  know  of  your  coming  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  my  wife  and  children  saw  me  at  the  first, 
and  called  after  me  to  turn  again  :  also  some  of  my 
neighbours  stood  crying  and  calling  after  me  to  return  ; 
but  I  put  my  fingers  in  my  ears,  and  so  came  on  my 
way. 

Good.  But  did  none  of  them  follow  you,  to  persuade 
you  to  go  back  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  both  Obstinate  and  Pliable  :  but  when  they 
saw  that  they  could  not  prevail,  Obstinate  went  railing 
back,  but  Pliable  came  with  me  a  little  way. 

Good.     But  why  did  he  not  come  through  ? 

Chr.     We  indeed  came  both  together  until  we  came 

at  the  Slough  of  Despond,  into  the  which  we  also  suddenly 

fell.    And  then  was  my  neighbour  Pliable  discouraged,  and 

would  not  adventure  farther.     Wherefore 

A  man  may  nave  .  .... 

company  when  he     getting  out  again  on  the  side  next  to  his 


heave  and  yet  own  house,  he  told  me  I  should  possess  the 
go  thither  alone  brave  country  alone  for  him  :  so  he  went 
his  way,  and  I  came  mine  ;  he  after  Obstinate,  and  I  to 
this  gate. 

34 


THE   WICKET   GATE 
So  when  Christian  was  stepping  in,  the  other  gave  him  a  pull. 


;ALK  WITH  GOODWILL 

Good.  Then  said  Goodwill,  Alas,  poor  man !  is  the 
celestial  glory  of  so  small  esteem  with  him,  that  he 
cotmteth  it  not  worth  running  the  hazard  of  a  few 
difficulties  to  obtain  it? 

Chr.  Truly,  said  Christian,  I  have  said  the  truth  of 
Pliable ;  and  if  I  should  also  say  all  the  _,  , 

.        r  tr    •          MI  i  •  Christian accuseta 

truth  or  myselt,  it  will  appear  there  is  no  himself  before  the 
betterment  betwixt  him  and  myself.  'Tis  man  at  **  *ate 
true,  he  went  back  to  his  own  house,  but  I  also  turned 
aside  to  go  into  the  way  of  death,  being  persuaded 
thereto  by  the  carnal  argument  of  one  Mr  Worldly 
Wiseman. 

Good.  Oh !  did  he  light  upon  you  ?  What !  he 
would  have  had  you  a  sought  for  ease  at  the  hands  of  Mr 
Legality !  They  are  both  of  them  a  very  cheat.  But 
did  you  take  his  counsel  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  as  far  as  I  durst.  I  went  to  find  out 
Mr  Legality,  until  I  thought  that  the  mountain  that  stands 
by  his  house  would  have  fallen  upon  my  head ;  wherefore 
there  I  was  forced  to  stop. 

Good.  That  mountain  has  been  the  death  of  many, 
and  will  be  the  death  of  many  more :  'tis  well  you  escaped 
being  by  it  dashed  in  pieces. 

Chr.  Why  truly  I  do  not  know  what  had  become  of 
me  there,  had  not  Evangelist  happily  met  me  again  as  I 
was  musing  in  the  midst  of  my  dumps ;  but  'twas  God's 
mercy  that  he  came  to  me  again,  for  else  I  had  never 
come  hither.  But  now  I  am  come,  such  a  one  as  I  am, 
more  fit  indeed  for  death  by  that  mountain,  than  thus  to 
stand  talking  with  my  Lord.  But,  oh  !  what  a  favour  is 
this  to  me,  that  yet  I  am  admitted  entrance  here ! 

Good.     We    make    no    objections   against   any,   not- 
withstanding all  that  they  have   done  before   they  come 
hither:    they  in   no   wise   are    cast   out. 
And  therefore,  good   Christian,   come   a     g&!ftj.£,2S" 
little  way  with  me,  and  I  will  teach  thee     directed  yet  on  hi» 
about  the  way  thou  must  go.    Look  before 
thee ;  dost  thou  see  this  narrow  way  ?    THAT  is  the  way 

35 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

thou  must  go.  It  was  cast  up  by  the  patriarchs,  prophets, 
Christ  and  His  apostles,  and  it  is  as  straight  as  a  rule  can 
make  it :  this  is  the  way  thou  must  go. 

Chr.  But,  said  Christian,  are  there  no  turnings 
Christian  afraid  nor  windings,  by  which  a  stranger  may 

of  losing  his  way  ]ose    his   Way? 

Good.  Yes,  there  are  many  ways  butt  down  upon 
this ;  and  they  are  crooked  and  wide :  but  thus  thou 
mayest  distinguish  the  right  from  the  wrong,  the  right 
only  being  strait  and  narrow. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  asked  him 
Christian  weary  further,  if  he  could  not  help  him  off  with 
of  his  burden  his  burden  that  was  upon  his  back.  For 

as  yet  he  had  not  got  rid  thereof,  nor  could  he  by  any 
means  get  it  off  without  help. 

There  is  node-  He   told    him,    As  to   thy  burden,  be 

j3K3b£u2*  content  to  bear  it,  until  thou  comest  to 
5fsi".  b^bythe  the  place  of  deliverance ;  for  there  it  will 

death  and  blood  of        r     .    *  .  r  ,       '  r 

Christ  fall  from  thy  back  or  itself. 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to 
address  himself  to  his  journey.  So  the  other  told  him, 
that  by  that  he  was  got  some  distance  from  the  gate, 
he  would  come  at  the  house  of  the  Interpreter,  at  whose 
door  he  should  knock,  and  he  would  show  him  excellent 
things.  Then  Christian  took  his  leave  of  his  friend,  and 
he  again  bid  him  God-speed. 

Then  he  went  on  till  he  came  at  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter,  where  he  knocked  over  and 

Christian  comes  to  , 

the  house  of  the  over.  At  last  one  came  to  the  door,  and 
asked  who  was  there. 

Chr.  Sir,  here  is  a  traveller,  who  was  bid  by  an  acquaint- 
ance of  the  good  man  of  this  house  to  call  here  for  my 
profit  j  I  would  therefore  speak  with  the  master  of  the  house. 
So  he  called  for  the  master  of  the  house,  who,  after  a  little 
time,  came  to  Christian,  and  asked  him  what  he  would 
have. 

Chr.  Sir,  said  Christian,  I  am  a  man  that  am  come 
from  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  am  going  to  Mount 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE 

Zion ;  and  I  was  told  by  the  man  that  stands  at  the  gate 
at  the  head  of  this  way,  that  if  I  called  here  you  would 
show  me  excellent  things,  such  as  would  be  an  help  to  me 
on  my  journey.  -^-  — -— 

Inter.     Then  said   the   Interpreter,  Come  in;  I  will 
show  thee  that  which  will  be  profitable  to  thee.     So  he 
commanded  his  man  to  light   the  candle,      HC  is  entertained, 
and  bid  Christian  follow  him ;  so  he  had     "lamination 
him  into  a  private  room,  and  bid  his  man  open  a  door  ;  the 
which  when  he  had  done,  Christian  saw  the  picture  of  a 
very  grave  person  hang  up  against    the     Christian  sees  a 
wall ;  and  this  was  the  fashion  of  it :  it     brave  picture 
had  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  the  best  of     The  fashion  of 
books  in  his  hand,  the  law  of  truth  was     the  picture 
written  upon  his  lips,  the  world  was  behind  its  back  5  it 
stood  as  if  it  pleaded  with  men,  and  a  crown  of  gold  did 
hang  over  its  head. 

Chr.     Then  said  Christian,  "What  means  this  ? 

Inter.  The  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  one  of  a 
thousand.  He  can  beget  children,  travail  in  birth  with 
children,  and  nurse  them  himself  when  they  are  born. 
And  whereas  thou  seest  him  with  his  eyes  lift  up  to 
heaven,  the  best  of  books  in  his  hand,  The  meaning  of 
and  the  law  of  truth  writ  on  his  lips;  the  picture 
it  is  to  show  thee,  that  his  work  is  to  know,  and  unfold 
dark  things  to  sinners ;  even  as  also  thou  seest  him 
stand  as  if  he  pleaded  with  men.  And  whereas  thou 
seest  the  world  as  cast  behind  him,  and  that  a  crown 
hangs  over  his  head ;  that  is  to  show  thee,  that  slight- 
ing and  despising  the  things  that  are  present,  for  the  love 
that  he  hath  to  his  Master's  service,  he  is  sure  in  the 
world  that  comes  next  to  have  glory  for  his  reward. 
Now,  said  the  Interpreter,  I  have  showed 

....  ~  r  .  Why  he  showed 

thee  this  picture  first,  because  the  man     him  the  picture 
whose   picture   this   is,  is  the  only  man     *"* 
whom  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  thou  art  going  hath 
authorized  to  be  thy  guide,   in  all  difficult  places   thou 
mayest  meet  with  in  the  way  :  wherefore  take  good  heed 

37 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

to  what  I  have  showed  thee,  and  bear  well  in  thy  mind 
what  thou  hast  seen,  lest  in  thy  journey  thou  meet  with 
some  that  pretend  to  lead  thee  right,  but  their  way  goes 
down  to  death. 

Then  he  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  very 
large  parlour  that  was  full  of  dust  because  never  swept ; 
the  which  after  he  had  reviewed  a  little  while,  the 
Interpreter  called  for  a  man  to  sweep.  Now,  when  he 
began  to  sweep,  the  dust  began  so  abundantly  to  fly  about, 
that  Christian  had  almost  therewith  been  choked.  Then 
said  the  Interpreter  to  a  damsel  that  stood  by,  Bring 
hither  the  water,  and  sprinkle  the  room ;  the  which  when 
she  had  done,  it  was  swept  and  cleansed  with  pleasure. 

Chr.     Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

Inter.  The  Interpreter  answered,  This  parlour  is  the 
heart  of  a  man  that  was  never  sanctified  by  the  sweet  grace 
of  the  gospel.  The  dust  is  his  original  sin,  and  inward 
corruptions,  that  have  defiled  the  whole  man.  He  that 
began  to  sweep  at  first,  is  the  Law ;  but  she  that  brought 
water,  and  did  sprinkle  it,  is  the  Gospel.  Now  whereas 
thou  sawest,  that  so  soon  as  the  firsr/oegan  to  sweep,  the 
dust  did  so  fly  about,  that  the  room  by  him  could  not  be 
cleansed,  but  that  thou  wast  almost  choked  therewith; 
this  is  to  show  thee,  that  the  law,  instead  of  cleansing 
the  heart  (by  its  working)  from  sin,  doth  revive,  put 
strength  into,  and  increase  it  in  the  soul,  even  as  it 
doth  discover  and  forbid  it,  for  it  doth  not  give  power 
to  subdue. 

Again,  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  sprinkle  the  room 
with  water,  upon  which  it  was  cleansed  with  pleasure; 
this  is  to  show  thee,  that  when  the  gospel  comes  in  the 
sweet  and  precious  influences  thereof  to  the  heart, 
then,  I  say,  even  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  lay  the 
dust  by  sprinkling  the  floor  with  water,  so  is  sin 
vanquished  and  subdued,  and  the  soul  made  clean, 
through  the  faith  of  it,  and  consequently  fit  for  the 
King  of  glory  to  inhabit. 

I  saw  moreover  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter  took 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE 

him  by  the  hand,  and  had  him  into  a  little  room,  where  sat 
two  little  children,  each  one  in  his  chair. 

_,.  r     .          .  .  _.  .       He  showed  nun 

The  name  of  the  eldest  was  Passion,  and     Passion  and 

the  name  of  the  other  patience.     Passion 

seemed  to  be  much  discontented,  but  Patience  was  very 

quiet.     Then  Christian  asked,  What  is  the  reason  of  the 

discontent  of  Passion  ?     The   Interpreter     Passion  will  have 

answered,  The  governor  of  them  would     itnow 

have  him  stay  for  his  best  things  till  the  beginning  of  the 

next  year;  but  he  will  have  all  now;  but     patience  is  for 

Patience  is  willing  to  wait.  waiting 

Then  I  saw  that  one  came  to  Passion,  and  brought  him 
a  bag  of  treasure,  and  poured  it  down  at 

.  .     P  1.11  i       •    •        i       Passion  hath  his     , 

his  feet:  the  which  he  took  up  and  rejoiced     desire,  and  quickly ; 
therein,   and  withal   laughed  Patience  to     lavisfc 
scorn.      But  I  beheld  but  a  while,  and  he  had  lavished  all 
away,  and  had  nothing  left  him  but  rags. 

Chr.     Then  said  Christian  to  the  Inter-      The  matter  ex- 
prefer,    Expound  this  matter  more  fully      pounded 
to  me. 

Inter.  So  he  said,  These  two  lads  are  figures  ;  Passion 
of  the  men  of  this  world,  and  Patience  of,  the  men  of  that 
which  is  to  come :  for  as  here  thou  seest,  Passion  will  have 
all  now,  this  year,  that  is  to  say,  in,  this  world ;  so  are  the 
men  of  this  world ;  they  must  have  all  their  good  things 
now ;  they  cannot  stay  till  next  year,  that  is,  until  the 
next  world,  for  their  portion  of  good.  That  proverb,  A 
bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush,  _. 

r  The  worldly  man 

is  of  more  authority  with  them,  than  are     for  a  bird  in  the 
all  the  Divine  testimonies  of  the  good  of  the     hand 
world  to  come.     But  as  thou  sawest  that  he  had  quickly 
lavished  all  away,  and  had  presently  left  him  nothing  but 
rags,  so  will  it  be  with  all  such  men  at  the  end  of  this  world. 
Chr.     Then  said  Christian,  Now  I   see   that  Patience 
has  the  best  wisdom,  and  that  upon  many     patience  had  the 
accounts.      I.  Because  he  stays  for  the  best     best  wisdom 
things.     2.  And  also  because  he  will  have  the  glory  of 
his,  when  the  other  had  nothing  but  rags. 

39 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Inter.  Nay,  you  may  add  another,  to  wit,  the  glory  of 
the  next  world  will  never  wear  out ;  but  these  are  suddenly 
gone.  Therefore  Passion  had  not  so  much  reason  to  laugh 
Things  that  are  at  Patience»  because  he  had  his  good  things 
first  must  give  first,  as  Patience  will  have  to  laugh  at 
fhSVreias^are3  Passion,  because  he  had  his  best  things 
lasting  jast .  £or  £rst  must  give  place  to  last,  be- 

cause last  must  have  his  time  to  come ;  but  last  gives  place 
to  nothing ;  for  there  is  not  another  to  succeed ;  he  there- 
fore that  hath  his  portion  first,  must  needs  have  a  time  to 
Dives  had  his  spend  it ;  but  he  that  has  his  portion  last, 

good  things  first  must  have  jt  lastingly  5  therefore  it  is  said 
of  Dives,  In  thy  life-time  thou  receivedst  thy  good  things, 
and  likewise  Lazarus  evil  things ;  but  now  he  is  comforted, 
and  thou  art  tormented. 

Chr.  Then  I  perceive  'tis  not  best  to  covet  things 
that  are  now,  but  to  wait  for  things  to  come. 

Inter.  You  say  truth :  for  the  things  that  are  seen 
The  first  things  are  temporal,  but  the  things  that  are  not 
are  but  temporal  seen  are  eternal.  But  though  this  be 
so,  yet  since  things  present  and  our  fleshly  appetite  are 
such  near  neighbours  one  to  another ;  and  again,  because 
things  to  come  and  carnal  sense  are  such  strangers  one 
to  another  ;  therefore  it  is,  that  the  first  of  these  so 
suddenly  fall  into  amity,  and  that  distance  is  so  continually 
between  the  second. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter  took 
Christian  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  place  where 
was  a  fire  burning  against  a  wall,  and  one  standing 
by  it,  always  casting  much  water  upon  it,  to  quench  it  \ 
yet  did  the  fire  burn  higher  and  hotter. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

The  Interpreter  answered,  This  fire  is  the  work  of 
grace  that  is  wrought  in  the  heart ;  he  that  casts  water 
upon  it  to  extinguish  and  put  it  out,  is  the  devil :  but  in 
that  thou  seest  the  fire  notwithstanding  burn  higher  and 
hotter,  thou  shalt  also  see  the  reason  of  that.  So  he  had 
him  about  to  the  back  side  of  the  wall,  where  he  saw  a 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE 

man  with  a  vessel  of  oil  in  his  hand,  of  the  which  he  did 
also  continually  cast  (but  secretly)  into  the  fire. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

The  Interpreter  answered,  This  is  Christ,  who  con- 
tinually, with  the  oil  of  His  grace,  maintains  the  work 
already  begun  in  the  heart ;  by  the  means  of  which,  not- 
withstanding what  the  devil  can  do,  the  souls  of  His 
people  prove  gracious  still.  And  in  that  thou  sawest, 
that  the  man  stood  behind  the  wall  to  maintain  the 
fire ;  this  is  to  teach  thee,  that  it  is  hard  for  the 
tempted  to  see  how  this  work  of  grace  is  maintained  in 
the  soul. 

I  saw  also,  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  again  by  the 
hand,  and  led  him  into  a  pleasant  place,  where  was  builded 
a  stately^alace,  beautiful  to  behold ;  at  the  sight  of  which 
Christian  ^was  greatljTdelighted.  He  saw  also  upon  the 
top  thereof  certain  persons  walking,  who  were  clothed  all 
in  gold. 

Then  said  Christian,  May  we  go  in  thither  ? 

Then  the  Interpreter  took  him  and  led  him  up  toward 
the  door  of  the  palace ;  and  behold,  at  the  door  stood  a 
great  company  of  men,  as  desirous  to  go  in,  but  durst  not. 
There  also  sat  a  man  at  a  little  distance  from  the  door,  at 
a  table-side,  with  a  book  and  his  ink-horn  before  him,  to 
take  the  name  of  him  that  should  enter  therein ;  he  saw 
also  that  in  the  doorway  stood  many  men  in  armour  to 
keep  it,  being  resolved  to  do  to  the  men  that  would  enter 
what  hurt  and  mischief  they  could.  Now  was  Christian 
somewhat  in  amaze.  At  last,  when  every  man  started 
back  for  fear  of  the  armed  men,  Christian 

r  The  valiant  man 

saw  a  man  of  a  very  stout  countenance 
come  up  to  the  man  that  sat  there  to  write,  saying,  Set 
down  my  name,  sir ;  the  which  when  he  had  done,  he 
saw  the  man  draw  his  sword,  and  put  an  helmet  upon  his 
head,  and  rush  toward  the  door  upon  the  armed  men,  who 
laid  upon  him  with  deadly  force;  but  the  man,  not  at 
all  discouraged,  fell  to  cutting  and  hacking  most  fiercely. 
So  after  he  had  received  and  given  many  wounds  to  those 

41 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

that  attempted  to  keep  him  out,  he  cuts  his  way  through 
them  all,  and  pressed  forward  into  the  palace ;  at  which 
there  was  a  pleasant  voice  heard  from  those  that  were 
within,  even  of  those  that  walked  upon  the  top  of  the 
palace,  saying, 

Come  in,  come  in; 

Eternal  glory  thou  shalt  win. 

So  he  went  in,  and  was  clothed  with  such  garments  as 
they.  Then  Christian  smiled,  and  said,  I  think  verily  I 
know  the  meaning  of  this. 

Now,  said  Christian,  let  me  go  hence.  Nay,  stay,  said 
the  Interpreter,  till  I  have  showed  thee  a  little  more,  and 
after  that  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way.  So  he  took  him  by 
Despair  like  an  tne  hand  again,  and  led  him  into  a  very 
iron  cage  dark  room,  where  there  sat  a  man  in  an 

iron  cage. 

Now  the  man,  to  look  on,  seemed  very  sad;  he  sat 
with  his  eyes  looking  down  to  the  ground,  his  hands 
folded  together,  and  he  sighed  as  if  he  would  break  his 
heart.  Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ?  At 
which  the  Interpreter  bid  him  talk  with  the  man. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian  to  the  man,  What  art  thou  ? 
The  man  answered,  I  am  what  I  was  not  once. 

Chr.     What  wast  thou  once  ? 

Man.  The  man  said,  I  was  once  a  fair  and  flourishing 
professor,  both  in  mine  own  eyes,  and  also  in  the  eyes 
of  others :  I  once  was,  as  I  thought,  fair  for  the  Celestial 
City,  and  had  then  even  joy  at  the  thoughts  that  I  should 
get  thither. 

Chr.     Well,  but  what  art  thou  now  ? 

Man.  I  am  now  a  man  of  despair,  and  am  shut  up 
in  it,  as  in  this  iron  cage.  I  cannot  get  out.  Oh  now  I 
cannot ! 

Chr.     But  how  earnest  thou  into  this  condition  ? 

Man.  I  left  off  to  watch  and  be  sober;  I  laid  the 
reins  upon  the  neck  of  my  lusts ;  I  sinned  against  the 
light  of  the  word,  and  the  goodness  of  God;  I  have 

42 


THE 
Then  said  Christian, 


MAN    IN    THE    IRON    CAGE 
'  Is  there  no  hope,  but  you  must  be  k$pt  in  tne 
iron  cage  of  despair?  " 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE 

grieved  the  Spirit,  and  He  is  gone ;  I  tempted  the  devil, 
and  he  is  come  to  me ;  I  have  provoked  God  to  anger, 
and  He  has  left  me  ;  I  have  so  hardened  my  heart,  that  I 
cannot  repent. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  But  is  there 
no  hope  for  such  a  man  as  this  ?  Ask  him,  said  the 
Interpreter. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian,  Is  there  no  hope,  but  you 
must  be  kept  in  the  iron  cage  of  despair  ? 

Man.     No,  none  at  all. 

Chr.     Why  ?  the  Son  of  the  Blessed  is  very  pitiful. 

Man.  I  have  crucified  Him  to  myself  afresh.  I 
have  despised  His  person.  I  have  despised  His 
righteousness ;  I  have  counted  His  blood  an  unholy 
thing ;  I  have  done  despite  to  the  Spirit  of  grace ; 
therefore  I  have  shut  myself  out  of  all  the  promises, 
and  there  now  remains  to  me  nothing  but  threatenings, 
dreadful  threatenings,  fearful  threatenings  of  certain 
judgment  and  fiery  indignation,  which  shall  devour  me 
as  an  adversary. 

Chr.  For  what  did  you  bring  yourself  into  this 
condition  ? 

Man.  For  the  lusts,  pleasures,  and  profits  of  this 
world;  in  the  enjoyments  of  which  I  did  then  promise 
myself  much  delight :  but  now  every  one  of  those  things 
also  bite  me,  and  gnaw  me,  like  a  burning  worm. 

Chr.     But  canst  thou  not  now  repent  and  turn  ? 

Man.  God  hath  denied  me  repentance.  His  word 
gives  me  no  encouragment  to  believe ;  yea,  Himself  hath 
shut  me  up  in  this  iron  cage :  nor  can  all  the  men  in  the 
world  let  me  out.  Oh,  eternity  !  eternity  !  how  shall  I 
grabble  with  the  misery  that  I  must  meet  with  in 
eternity ! 

Inter.  Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  Let  this 
man's  misery  be  remembered  by  thee,  and  be  an  everlasting 
caution  to  thee. 

Chr.  Well,  said  Christian,  this  is  fearful !  God  help 
me  to  watch  and  be  sober,  and  to  pray,  that  I  may  shun 

43 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

the  cause  of  this  man's  misery.      Sir,  is  it  not  time  for  me 
to  go  on  my  way  now  ? 

Inter.  Tarry  till  I  shall'show  thee  one  thing  more, 
and  then  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way. 

So  he  took  Christian  by  the  hand  again,  and  led  him  >> 
into  a  chamber,  where  there  was  one  rising  out  of  bed ;( 
and  as  he  put  on  fyis  raiment,  he  shook  and  trembled.  N 

Then  said  Christian,  Why  doth  this  man  thus  tremble  ? 

The  Interpreter  then  bid  him  tell  to  Christian  the 
reason  of  his  so  doing. 

So  he  began,  and  said,  This  night,  as  I  was  in  my 
sleep,  I  dreamed,  and  behold  the  heavens  grew  exceed- 
ing black:  also  it  thundered  and  lightened  in  most 
fearful  wise,  that  it  put  me  into  an  agony.  So  I  looked 
up  in  my  dream,  and  saw  the  clouds  rack,  at  an  unusual 
rate ;  upon  which  I  heard  a  great  sound  of  a  trumpet, 
and  saw  also  a  man  sitting  upon  a  cloud,  attended  with 
the  thousands  of  heaven;  they  were  all  in  flaming  fire; 
also  the  heavens  were  on  a  burning  flame.  I  heard 
then  a  voice,  saying,  Arise,  ye  dead,  and  come  to 
judgment. 

And  with  that  the  rocks  rent,  the  graves  opened, 
and  the  dead  that  were  therein  came  forth  :  some  of 
them  were  exceeding  glad,  and  looked  upward;  and 
some  sought  to  hide  themselves  under  the  mountains. 
Then  I  saw  the  man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud,  open  the 
book  and  bid  the  world  draw  near.  Yet  there  was,  by 
reason  of  a  fierce  flame  that  issued  out  and  came  from 
before  him,  a  convenient  distance  betwixt  him  and  them, 
as  betwixt  the  judge  and  the  prisoners  at  the  bar. 

I  heard  it  also  proclaimed  to  them  that  attended  on 
the  man  that  sat  on  the  cloud,  Gather  together  the 
tares,  the  chaff,  and  stubble,  and  cast  them  into  the 
burning  lake.  And  with  that  the  bottomless'pit  opened, 
just  whereabout  I  stood  ;  out  of  the  mouth  of  which  there 
came,  in  an  abundant  manner,  smoke,  and  coals  of  fire, 
with  hideous  noises.  It  was  also  said  to  the  same  persons, 
Gather  My  wheat  into  the  garner.  And  with  that  I 

44 


CHRISTIAN  AT  THE  CROSS 

saw  many  catched  up  and  carried  away  in  the  clouds ; 
but  I  was  left  behind.  I  also  sought  to  hide  myself, 
but  I  could  not ;  for  the  man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud 
still  kept  his  eye  upon  me :  my  sins  also  came  into 
my  mind ;  and  my  conscience  did  accuse  me  on  every 
side.  Upon  this  I  awake  from  my  sleep. 

Chr.  But  what  was  it  that  made  you  so  afraid  of  this 
sight  ? 

Man.  "Why,  I  thought  that  the  day  of  judgment  was 
come,  and  that  I  was  not  ready  for  it :  but  this  frighted 
me  most,  that  the  angels  gathered  up  several,  and  left  me 
behind  :  also  the  pit  of  hell  opened  her  mouth  just  where 
I  stood.  My  conscience  too  afflicted  me ;  and,  as  I 
thought,  the  Judge  had  always  His  eye  upon  me,  showing 
indignation  in  His  countenance. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  Hast  thou 
considered  all  these  things  ? 

Chr.     Yes,  and  they  put  me  in  hope  and  fear. 

Inter.  Well,  keep  all  things  so  in  thy  mind,  that  they 
may  be  as  a  goad  in  thy  sides,  to  prick  thee  forward  in  the 
way  thou  must  go.  Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his 
loins,  and  to  address  himself  to  his  journey.  Then  said 
the  Interpreter,  The  Comforter  be  always  with  thee,  good 
Christian,  to  guide  thee  in  the  way  that  leads  to  the  city. 

So  Christian  went  on  his  way,  saying, 

Here  have  I  seen  things  rare  and  profitable, 
Things  pleasant,  dreadful,  things  to  make  me  stable 
In  what  I  have  begun  to  take  in  hand  : 
Then  let  me  think  on  them,  and  understand 
Wherefore  they  showed  me  were,  and  let  me  be 
Thankful,  O  good  Interpreter,  to  thee. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  highway  up  which 
Christian  was  to  go,  was  fenced  on  either  side  with  a 
wall,  and  that  wall  was  called  Salvation.  Up  this 
way,  therefore  did  burdened  Christian  run,  but  not 
without  great  difficulty,  because  of  the  load  on  his 
back. 

He  ran  thus  till  he  came  at  a  place  somewhat  ascending  5 

45 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  upon  that  place  stood  a  cross,  and  a  little  below,  in  the 
bottom,  a  sepulchre.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  just  as 
Christian  came  up  with  the  cross,  his  burden  loosed  from 

I  off  his  shoulders,  and  fell  from  off  his  back,  and  began  to 
tumble,  and  so  continued  to  do  till  it  came  to  the  mouth 
of  the  sepulchre,  where  it  fell  in,  and  I  saw  it  no  more. 

Then  was  Christian  glad  and  lightsome,  and  said  with 
When  God  re-  a  Hierry  heart,  He  hath  given  me  rest 
leases  us  of  our  by  His  sorrow,  and  life  by  His  death. 
we1  areDas  those0'  Then  he  stood  still  awhile  to  look  and 
wonder ;  for  it  was  very  surprising  to  him 
that  the  sight  of  the  cross  should  thus  ease  him  of  his 
burden.  He  looked  therefore,  and  looked  again,  even  till 
the  springs  that  were  in  his  head  sent  the  waters  down 
his  cheeks.  Now  as  he  stood  looking  and  weeping, 
behold,  three  Shining  Ones  came  to  him,  and  saluted 
him  with  Peace  be  to  Thee.  So  the  first  said  to 
him,  Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee  ;  the  second  stripped 
him  of  his  rags,  and  clothed  him  with  change  of 

>  raiment ;  the  third  also  set  a  mark  in  his  forehead ; 
and  gave  him  a  roll  with  a  seal  upon  it,  which  he 
bid  him  look  on  as  he  ran,  and  that  he  should  give 
it  in  at  the  celestial  gate :  so  they  went  their  way. 
Then  Christian  gave  three  leaps  for  joy,  and  went  on 
singing, 

Thus  far  I  did  come  laden  with  my  sin ; 

Nor  could  aught  ease  the  grief  that  I  was  in, 
A  Christian  can  Till  I  came  hither :  what  a  place  is  this  ! 

singr,  though  Must  here  be  the  beginning  of  my  bliss  ? 

derive  h"mGt°hde  Must  here  the  burden  fall  from  off  my  back  ? 

joy  of  his  heart  Must  here  the  strings  that  bound  it  to  me  crack  ? 

Blessed  cross  I  blessed  sepulchre  I  blessed  rather  be 

The  Man  that  there  was  put  to  shame  for  me! 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  he  went  on  thus,  even 
until  he  came  at  a  bottom,  where  he  saw,  a  little  out  of 
Simple,  Sloth,  and  the  way,  three  men  fast  asleep,  with 
Presumption  fetters  upon  their  heels.  The  name  of 

the  one  was  Simple,  another  Sloth,  and  the  third 
Presumption. 

46 


CHRISTIAN    LOSES    HIS    BURDEN 

Siow  as  he  stood  looking  and  weeping.,  behold,  three  Shining  Onet 
came  to  him 


SLOTH  AND  PRESUMPTION 

Christian  then  seeing    them   lie  in  this  case,  went  to 
them,  if  peradventure  he  might  awake  them,  and  cried, 
You  are  like  them  that  sleep  on  the  top  of  a  mast,  for 
the  dead  sea  is  under  you,  a  gulf  that  hath  no  bottom : 
awake,  therefore,  and  come  away;    be  willing  also,  and 
I  will   help   you   off  with    your   irons.      He    also   told 
them,    If   he    that    goeth    about    like    a    roaring    lion 
comes   by,    you    will    certainly   become   a   prey   to  his 
teeth.      With   that   they   looked   upon  him,    and   began 
to  reply  in  this  sort :  Simple  said,  I  see  no 
danger;    Sloth   said,    Yet   a   little    more     SS^^ffijf 
sleep;   and  Presumption  said,  Every  fat     &°de°P|neth not 
must  stand  upon  his  own  bottom.     And 
so  they  lay  down  to  sleep  again,  and  Christian  went  on 
his  way. 

Yet  was  he  troubled  to  think,  that  men  in  that  danger 
should  so  little  esteem  the  kindness  of  him  that  so  freely 
offered  to  help  them,  both  by  awakening  of  them,  coun- 
selling of  them,  and  proffering  to  help  them  off  with  their 
irons.  And  as  he  was  troubled  thereabout,  he  espied 
two  men  come  tumbling  over  the  wall  on  the  left  hand  of 
the  narrow  way ;  and  they  made  up  apace  to  him.  The 
name  of  the  one  was  Formalist,  and  the  name  of  the  other 
Hypocrisy.  So,  as  I  said,  they  drew  up  unto  him,  who 
thus  entered  with  them  into  discourse. 

Chr.      Gentlemen,    whence   came    you,   and   whither 

g°    y°u?  Christian  talked 

Form,   and   Hyp.     We  were  born  in     with  them 
the  land  of  Vain-glory,  and  are  going  for  praise  to  Mount 
Zion. 

Chr.  Why  came  you  not  in  at  the  gate  which  standeth 
at  the  beginning  of  the  way  ?  Know  you  not  that  it  is 
written,  that  he  that  cometh  not  in  by  the  door,  but 
climbeth  up  some  other  way,  the  same  is  a  thief  and  a 
robber  ? 

Form,  and  Hyp.  They  said,  that  to  go  to  the  gate 
for  entrance  was  by  all  their  countrymen  counted  too  far 
about ;  and  that  therefore  their  usual  way  was  to  make  a 

-      47 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

short  cut  of  it,  and  to  climb  over  the  wall  as  they  had 
done. 

Chr.  But  will  it  not  be  counted  a  trespass  against  the 
Lord  of  the  city  whither  we  are  bound,  thus  to  violate  His 
revealed  will  ? 

Form,  and  Hyp.  They  told  him,  that  as  for  that,  he 
needed  not  trouble  his  head  thereabout :  for  what  they 
did  they  had  custom  for,  and  could  produce  (if  need  were), 
testimony  that  would  witness  it,  for  more  than  a  thousand 
years. 

Chr.  But,  said  Christian,  will  it  stand  a  trial  at 
law? 

Form,  and  Hyp.  They  told  him,  that  custom, 
They  that  come  ^  being  of  so  long  a  standing  as  above  a 
into  the  way,  but  thousand  years,  would  doubtless  now  be 

not  by  the  door,  .  J  '  . 

think  that  they         admitted  as  a  thing  legal  by  an  impartial 

can  say  something        .j  i    i_      •  j  L  •£ 

in  vindication  of  judge  :  and  besides,  say  they,  it  we  get 
their  own  practice  jnto  tjie  wav?  what's  matter  which  way 

we  get  in  ?  If  we  are  in,  we  are  in  :  thou  art  but  in  the 
way,  who,  as  we  perceive,  came  in  at  the  gate ;  and  we 
are  also  in  the  way,  that  came  tumbling  over  the  wall: 
wherein  now  is  thy  condition  better  than  ours  ? 

Chr.  I  walk  by  the  rule  of  my  Master  :  you  walk  by 
the  rude  working  of  your  fancies.  You  are  counted 
thieves  already  by  the  Lord  of  the  way ;  therefore  I 
doubt  you  will  not  be  found  true  men  at  the  end  of  the 
way.  You  come  in  by  yourselves  without  His  direction, 
and  shall  go  out  by  yourselves  without  His  mercy. 

To  this  they  made  him  but  little  answer ;  only  they  bid 
him  look  to  himself.  Then  I  saw  that  they  went  on 
every  man  in  his  way,  without  much  conference  one  with 
another ;  save  that  these  two  men  told  Christian,  that  as 
to  laws  and  ordinances,  they  doubted  not  but  they  should 
as  conscientiously  do  them  as  he.  Therefore,  said  they, 
we  see  not  wherein  thou  difFerest  from  us,  but  by 
the  coat  that  is  on  thy  back,  which  was,  as  we  trow, 
given  thee  by  some  of  thy  neighbours,  to  hide  the  shame 
of  thy  nakedness. 


THE  HILL  DIFFICULTY 

Chr.     By  laws  and  ordinances  you  will  not  be  saved, 
since  you  came  not  in  by  the  door.     And   as   for   this 
coat  that  is  on  my  back,  it  was  given  me  by  the  Lord 
of  the  place  whither  I   go ;   and  that,  as  you  say,   to 
cover  my  nakedness  with.     And  I  take  it  as  a  token  of 
kindness  to  me ,  for  I  had  nothing  but     Christian  bas 
rags  before.     And  besides,  thus  I  comfort     his  Lord's  coat  on 
myself  as  I  go.     Surely,  think  I,  when  I     comKd^ere- 
come  to  the  gate  of  the  city,  the  Lord     with 
thereof  will  know  me  for  good,  since  I  have  His    coat 
on  my  back;   a   coat   that  He   gave   me     He is comforted 
freely  in  the  day  that  He  stnpt  me  of  my     also  with  his  mark 
rags.     I  have,  moreover,  a  mark  in  my 
forehead,  of  which  perhaps  you  have   taken  no  notice, 
which  one  of  my  Lord's  most  intimate  associates  fixed 
there  in  the  day  that  my  burden  fell  off  my  shoulders.     I 
will  tell  to  you,  moreover,  that  I  had  then  given  me  a  roll 
sealed,  to  comfort  me  by  reading  as  I  go  on  the  way ;  I 
was  also  bid  to  give  it  in  at  the  celestial  gate,  in  token  of 
my  certain  going  in  after  it ;  all  which  things  I  doubt  you 
want,  and  want  them  because  you  came  not  in  at  the  gate. 

To  these  things  they  gave  him  no  answer ;  only  they 
looked  upon  each  other,  and  laughed.  Then  I  saw  that 
they  went  on  all,  save  that  Christian  kept  Christian  has  talk 
before,  who  had  no  more  talk  but  with  with  himself 
himself,  and  that  sometimes  sighingly,  and  sometimes 
comfortably :  also  he  would  be  often  reading  in  the  roll 
that  one  of  the  Shining  Ones  gave  him,  by  which  he  was 
refreshed. 

I  beheld  then,  that  they  all  went  on  till  they  came  to 

the    foot    Of    the     hill     Difficulty,    at     the       Becomes  to  ihe 

bottom  of  which  was  a  spring.  There  wii  Difficulty 
were  also  in  the  same  place  two  other  ways,  besides  that 
which  came  straight  from  the  gate :  one  turned  to  the  left 
hand,  and  the  other  to  the  right,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
hill ;  but  the  narrow  way  lay  right  up  the  hill,  and  the 
name  of  the  going  up  the  side  of  the  hill  is  called  Diffi- 
culty. Christian  went  now  to  the  spring,  and  drank 

49  o 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

thereof  to  refresh  himself,  and  then  began  to  go  up  the 
hill,  saying, 

The  hill,  though  high,  I  covet  to  ascend  j 

The  difficulty  will  not  me  offend  ; 

For  I  perceive  the  way  to  life  lies  here: 

Come,  pluck  up,  heart,  let's  neither  faint  nor  fear. 

Better,  though  difficult,  the  right  way  to  go, 

Than  wrong,  though  easy,  where  the  end  is  woe. 

The  other  two  also  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill.  But 
when  they  saw  that  the  hill  was  steep  and  high,  and  that 
there  were  two  other  ways  to  go ;  and  supposing  also  that 
these  two  ways  might  meet  again  with  that  up  which 
Christian  went,  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill ;  therefore 
they  were  resolved  to  go  in  those  ways.  Now  the  name 
of  one  of  those  ways  was  Danger,  and  the  name  of  the 
_-  .  r  other  Destruction.  So  the  one  took  the 

1  he  danger  ol  ....  . .          -.^  1*1       i« 

turning  out  of  the  way  which  is  called  Danger,  which  did 
lead  him  into  a  great  wood ;  and  the  other 
took  directly  up  the  way  to  Destruction,  which  led  him 
into  a  wide  field,  full  of  dark  mountains,  where  he 
stumbled  and  fell,  and  rose  no  more. 

I  looked  then  after  Christian,  to  see  him  go  up  the  hill, 
where  I  perceived  he  fell  from  running  to  going,  and  from 
going  to  clambering  upon  his  hands  and  his  knees,  because 
of  the  steepness  of  the  place.  Now  about 
the  mid-way  to  the  top  of  the  hill  was 
a  pleasant  arbour,  made  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for 
the  refreshing  of  weary  travellers.  Thither,  therefore, 
Christian  got,  where  also  he  sat  down  to  rest  him :  then 
he  pulled  his  roll  out  of  his  bosom,  and  read  therein  to  his 
comfort ;  he  also  now  began  afresh  to  take  a  review  of  the 
coat  or  garment  that  was  given  him  as  he  stood  by  the 
cross.  Thus  pleasing  himself  awhile,  he  at  last  fell  into  a 
slumber,  and  thence  into  a  fast  sleep,  which  detained  him 
He  that  sleeps  is  'm  that  place  until  it  was  almost  night; 
aloser  and  in  his  sleep  his  roll  fell  out  of  his 

hand.      Now  as  he   was   sleeping,   there  came  one   to 
him,   and   awaked   him,   saying,   '  Go   to   the   ant,  thou 

-  50 


CLIMBING    TTTR     HTLL    DIFFICULTY 

fie  frJ'  from  running  to  going,  and  from  going  to  cZ0m*<?ring 
•'its  Hands  and  his  knees,  because  of  the  steepness  of  the  ph  ce. 


CHRISTIAN  MISSES  HIS  ROLL 

sluggard;  consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise.'  And  with 
that  Christian  suddenly  started  up,  and  sped  him  on  his 
way,  and  went  apace  till  he  came  to  the  top  of  the 
hill. 

Now  when  he  was  got  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  there  came 
two  men  running  to  meet  him  amain ;  the  name  of  the  one 
was  Timorous,  and  the  other  Mistrust: 

,  ~.t     .     .  .  .     o.  i       *        i  Christian  meets 

to  whom  Christian  said,  Sirs,  what  s  the  with  Mistrust  and 
matter  ?  you  run  the  wrong  way.  Timorous  Tunorous 
answered,  that  they  were  going  to  the  city  of  Zion,  and 
had  got  up  that  difficult  place :  but,  said  he,  the  farther 
we  go,  the  more  danger  we  meet  with;  wherefore  we 
turned,  and  are  going  back  again. 

Yes,  said  Mistrust,  for  just  before  us  lies  a  couple  of 
lions  in  the  way,  whether  sleeping  or  waking  we  know 
not ;  and  we  could  not  think,  if  we  came  within  reach,  but 

,  they  would  presently  pull  us  in  pieces. 

r     Chr.     Then  said  Christian,  You  make  me  afraid ;  but 
whither  shall  I  fly  to  be  safe  ?     If  I  go  back  to  mine  own 
country,  that  is  prepared  for  fire  and  brimstone,  and  I 
shall  certainly  perish  there  5  if  I  can  go  to  the  Celestial 
City,  I  am  sure  to  be  in  safety  there:  I  must  venture. 
To  go  back  is  nothing  but  death :  to  go     Christian  shakes 
forward  is  fear  of  death,  and  life  ever-     for  fear 
lasting  beyond  it :  I  will  yet  go  forward.    So  Mistrust  and 
Timorous  ran  down  the  hill,  and  Christian  went  on  his 
way.     But  thinking  again  of  what  he  heard  from  the  men, 
he  felt  in  his  bosom  for  his  roll,  that  he  might  read  therein, 
and  be  comforted ;  but  he  felt,  and  found 
it  not.     Then  was  Christian  in  great  dis-     gKSfth^S1 
tress,  and  knew  not  what  to  do;  for  he     £omforttotake 
wanted  that  which  used  to  relieve  him,  and 
that  which  should  have  been  his  pass  into  the  Celestial 
City.    Here,  therefore,  he  began  to  be  much  perplexed,  and 
knew  not  what  to  do.      At  last  he  be-     He  is  perplexed 
thought  himself  that  he  had  slept  in  the     for  his  roll 
arbour  that  is  on  the  side  of  the  hill ;  and,  falling  down 
upon   his    knees,   he  asked    God   forgiveness    for   that 

51 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

foolish  fact,1  and  then  went  back  to  look  for  his  roll.  But 
all  the  way  he  went  back,  who  can  sufficiently  set  forth 
the  sorrow  of  Christian's  heart  ?  Sometimes  he  sighed, 
sometimes  he  wept,  and  oftentimes  he  chid  himself  for 
being  so  foolish  to  fall  asleep  in  that  place,  which  was 
erected  only  for  a  little  refreshment  from  his  weariness. 
Thus,  therefore,  he  went  back,  carefully  looking  on  this 
side  and  on  that,  all  the  way  as  he  went,  if  happily  he 
might  find  the  roll  that  had  been  his  comfort  so  many  times 
in  his  journey.  He  went  thus  till  he  came  again  within 
sight  of  the  arbour  where  he  sat  and  slept ;  but  that  sight 
Christian  bewails  renewed  his  sorrow  the  more,  by  bringing 
his  foolish  sleeping  again,  even  afresh,  his  evil  of  sleeping 
unto  his  mind.  Thus,  therefore,  he  now  went  on 
bewailing  his  sinful  sleep,  saying,  O  wretched  man  that 
I  am,  that  I  should  sleep  in  the  day-time !  that  I  should 
sleep  in  the  midst  of  difficulty!  that  I  should  so  indulge 
the  flesh,  as  to  use  that  rest  for  ease  to  my  flesh,  which 
the  Lord  of  the  hill  hath  erected  only  for  the  relief  of 
the  spirits  of  pilgrims !  How  many  steps  have  I  took 
in  vain  !  Thus  it  happened  to  Israel ;  for  their  sin  they 
were  sent  back  again  by  way  of  the  Red  Sea  -9  and  I  am 
made  to  tread  those  steps  with  sorrow,  which  I  might 
have  trod  with  delight,  had  it  not  been  for  this  sinful 
sleep.  How  far  might  I  have  been  on  my  way  by  this 
time  !  I  am  made  to  tread  those  steps  thrice  over,  which 
I  needed  not  to  have  trod  but  once :  yea,  now  also  I  am 
like  to  be  benighted,  for  the  day  is  almost  spent.  Oh  that 
I  had  not  slept ! 

Now  by  this  time  he  was  come  to  the  arbour  again, 

Christian  findeth         where  f°r  a  while  he  Sat  d°Wn  and  ^P1  5 

his  roll  where  he       but  at  last  (as  Christian  would  have  it) 

looking  sorrowfully  down  under  the  settle, 

there  he  espied  his  roll,  the  which  he,  with  trembling  and 

haste,   catched   up,  and  put  into  his  bosom.     But   who 

can  tell  how  joyful  this  man  was  when  he  had  gotten  his 

roll  again  ?     For  this  roll  was  the  assurance  of  his  life, 

1  Old  sense  of  the  word  equivalent  to  modern  words  <deed,'  'act' 

52 


THE  PALAC5  BEAUTIFUL 

and  acceptance  at  the  desired  haven.  Therefore  he  laid  it 
up  in  his  bosom,  gave  thanks  to  God  for  directing  his  eye 
to  the  place  where  it  lay,  and  with  joy  and  tears  betook 
himself  again  to  his  journey.  But  oh  how  nimbly  did 
he  go  up  the  rest  of  the  hill !  Yet,  before  he  got  up,  the 
sun  went  down  upon  Christian;  and  this  made  him  again 
recall  the  vanity  of  his  sleeping  to  his  remembrance ;  and 
thus  he  again  began  to  condole  with  himself:  O  thou 
sinful  sleep  !  how  for  thy  sake  am  I  like  to  be  benighted 
in  my  journey!  I  must  walk  without  the  sun,  darkness 
must  cover  the  path  of  my  feet,  and  I  must  hear  the  noise 
of  the  doleful  creatures,  because  of  my  sinful  sleep  !  Now 
also  he  remembered  the  story  that  Mistrust  and  Timorous 
told  him,  how  'they  were  frighted  with  the  sight  of  the 
lions.  Then  said  Christian  to  himself  again,  These  beasts 
range  in  the  night  for  their  prey,  and  if  they  should  meet 
with  me  in  the  dark,  how  should  I  shift  them  ?  how  should 
I  escape  being  by  them  torn  in  pieces  ?  Thus  he  went  on. 
But  while  he  was  bewailing  his  unhappy  miscarriage,  he 
lift  up  his  eyes,  and  behold  there  was  a  very  stately 
palace  before  him,  the  name  of  which  was  Beautiful,  and 
it  stood  by  the  highway-side. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  he  made  haste,  and  went 
forward,  that  if  possible  he  might  get  lodging  there. 
Now  before  he  had  gone  far,  he  entered  into  a  very 
narrow  passage,  which  was  about  a  furlong  off  the 
Porter's  lodge :  and  looking  very  narrowly  before  him  as 
he  went,  he  espied  two  lions  in  the  way.  Now,  thought 
he,  I  see  the  dangers  that  Mistrust  and  Timorous  were 
driven  back  by.  (The  lions  were  chained,  but  he  saw 
not  the  chains.)  Then  he  was  afraid,  and  thought  also 
himself  to  go  back  after  them ;  for  he  thought  nothing 
but  death  was  before  him.  But  the  Porter  at  the  lodge, 
whose  name  is  Watchful,  perceiving  that  Christian  made 
a  halt,  as  if  he  would  go  back,  cried  unto  him,  saying, 
Is  thy  strength  so  small  ?  Fear  not  the  lions,  for 
they  are  chained,  and  are  placed  there  for  trial  of  faith 
where  it  is,  and  for  discovery  of  those  that  have  none: 

53 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

keep  in  the  midst  of  the  path,  and  no  hurt  shall  come 
unto  thee. 

Then  I  saw  that  he  went  on,  trembling  for  fear  of  the 
lions ;  but  taking  good  heed  to  the  directions  of  the 
Porter,  he  heard  them  roar,  but  they  did  him  no  harm. 
Then  he  clapped  his  hands,  and  went  on  till  he  came  and 
stood  before  the  gate  where  the  Porter  was.  Then  said 
Christian  to  the  Porter,  Sir,  what  house  is  this  ?  and  may 
I  lodge  here  to-night  ?  The  Porter  answered,  This  house 
was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  and  He  built  it  for  the 
relief  and  security  of  pilgrims.  The  Porter  also  asked 
whence  he  was,  and  whither  he  was  going. 

Chr.  I  am  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  am 
going  to  Mount  Zion  ;  but  because  the  sun  is  now  set,  I 
desire,  if  I  may,  to  lodge  here  to-night. 

Port.     What  is  your  name  ? 

Chr.  My  name  is  now  Christian,  but  my  name  at 
the  first  was  Graceless :  I  came  of  the  race  of  Japheth, 
whom  God  will  persuade  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of 
Shem. 

Port.  But  how  doth  it  happen  you  come  so  late  ?  The 
sun  is  set. 

Chr.  I  had  been  here  sooner,  but  that,  wretched  man 
that  I  am,  I  slept  in  the  arbour  that  stands  on  the  hill 
side  !  Nay,  I  had,  notwithstanding  that,  been  here  much 
sooner,  but  that  in  my  sleep  I  lost  my  evidence,  and  came 
without  it  to  the  brow  of  the  hill ;  and  then  feeling  for  it, 
and  finding  it  not,  I  was  forced  with  sorrow  of  heart  to 
go  back  to  the  place  where  I  slept  my  sleep,  where  I 
found  it  5  and  now  I  am  come. 

Port.  Well,  I  will  call  out  one  of  the  virgins  of  this 
place,  who  will,  if  she  likes  your  talk,  bring  you  in  to  the 
rest  of  the  family,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  house. 
So  Watchful  the  Porter  rang  a  bell,  at  the  sound  of 
which  came  out  of  the  door  of  the  house  a  grave  and 
beautiful  damsel,  named  Discretion,  and  asked  why  she 
was  called. 

The  Porter  answered,  This  man  is  in  a  journey  from 


DISCOURSE  WITH  PIETY 

the  City  of  Destruction  to  Mount  Zion ;  but  being  weary 
and  benighted,  he  asked  me  if  he  might  lodge  here 
to-night :  so  I  told  him  I  would  call  for  thee,  who,  after 
discourse  had  with  him,  mayest  do  as  seemeth  thee  good, 
even  according  to  the  law  of  the  house. 

Then  she  asked  him  whence  he  was,  and  whither  he 
was  going ;  and  he  told  her.  She  asked  him  also  how  he 
got  into  the  way ;  and  he  told  her.  Then  she  asked  him 
what  he  had  seen  and  met  with  in  the  way ;  and  he  told 
her.  And  last  she  asked  his  name.  So  he  said,  It  is 
Christian ;  and  I  have  so  much  the  more  a  desire  to  lodge 
here  to-night,  because,  by  what  I  perceive,  this  place  was 
built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for  the  relief  and  security  of 
pilgrims.  So  she  smiled,  but  the  water  stood  in  her 
eyes;  and  after  a  little  pause  she  said,  I  will  call  forth 
two  or  three  more  of  my  family.  So  she  ran  to  the  door, 
and  called  out  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity,  who,  after  a 
little  more  discourse  with  him,  had  him  in  to  the  family ; 
and  many  of  them  meeting  him  at  the  threshold  of  the 
house,  said,  Come  in,  thou  blessed  of  the  Lord ;  this 
house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  on  purpose  to 
entertain  such  pilgrims  in.  Then  he  bowed  his  head,  and 
followed  them  into  the  house.  So  when  he  was  come 
in  and  sat  down,  they  gave  him  something  to  drink,  and 
consented  together  that,  until  supper  was  ready,  some  of 
them  should  have  some  particular  discourse  with  Christian, 
for  the  best  improvement  of  time;  and  they  appointed 
Piety,  Prudence,  and  Charity  to  discourse  with  him ;  and 
thus  they  began. 

Piety.     Come,  good  Christian,  since  we  have  been  so 
loving  to  you  to  receive  you  in  to  our  house     piety  discourses 
this  night,  let  us,  if  perhaps  we  may  better     him 
ourselves  thereby,  talk  with  you  of  all  things  that  have 
happened  to  you  in  your  pilgrimage. 

Chr.  With  a  very  good  will ;  and  I  am  glad  that  "you 
are  so  well  disposed. 

Piety.  What  moved  you  at  first  to  betake  yourself  to 
a  pilgrim's  life  ? 

55 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.  I  was  driven  out  of  my  native  country  by 
How  Christian  a  dreadful  sound  tnat  was  in  mine  ears ;  to 
was  driven  out  of  wit,  that  unavoidable  destruction  did  attend 

bis  own  country  ^  jf  j  ^ode  jn  that  pkce  where  j  wa^ 

Piety.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  came  out  of 
your  country  this  way? 

Chr.  It  was  as  God  would  have  it  ;  for  when  I  was 
under  the  fears  of  destruction,  I  did  not  know  whither  to 
HOW  he  goes  into  g°  5  but  by  chance  there  came  a  man,  even 
thewaytoZion  to  me>  as  I  was  trembling  and  weeping, 
whose  name  is  Evangelist,  and  he  directed  me  to  the 
Wicket-gate,  which  else  I  should  never  have  found,  and 
so  set  me  into  the  way  that  hath  led  me  directly  to  this  house. 

Piety.  But  did  you  not  come  by  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  did  see  such  things  there,  the  re- 
membrance of  which  will  stick  by  me  as 

A  rehearsal  of  T    ..  .111  t» 

what  he  saw  in  long  as  I  live,  especially  three  things  ;  to 
the  way  wi(.^  j^w  Qhrjst>  jn  despite  of  Satan, 

maintains  His  work  of  grace  in  the  heart ;  how  the  man 
had  sinned  himself  quite  out  of  hopes  of  God's  mercy ; 
and  also  the  dream  of  him  that  thought  in  his  sleep  the 
day  of  judgment  was  come. 

Piety.     Why,  did  you  hear  him  tell  his  dream  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  a  dreadful  one  it  was,  I  thought;  it 
made  my  heart  ache  as  he  was  telling  of  it ;  but  yet  I  am 
glad  I  heard  it. 

Piety.  Was  that  all  you  saw  at  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter  ? 

Chr.  No ;  he  took  me,  and  had  me  where  he  showed 
me  a  stately  palace,  and  how  the  people  were  clad  in 
gold  that  were  in  it;  and  how  there  came  a  venturous 
man,  and  cut  his  way  through  the  armed  men  that  stood 
in  the  door  to  keep  him  out ;  and  how  he  was  bid  to  come 
in,  and  win  eternal  glory.  Methought  those  things  did 
ravish  my  heart.  I  would  have  stayed  at  that  good  man's 
house  a  twelvemonth,  but  that  I  knew  I  had  farther  to  go. 

Piety.     And  what  saw  ye  else  »*3  the  way? 

56 


DISCOURSE  WITH  PRUDENCE 

Chr.  Saw  ?  Why,  I  went  but  a  little  farther,  and  I 
saw  one,  as  I  thought  in  my  mind,  hang  bleeding  upon  the 
tree  ;  and  the  very  sight  of  Him  made  my  burden  fall  off 
my  back ;  for  I  groaned  under  a  very  heavy  burden,  but 
then  it  fell  down  from  off  me.  'Twas  a  strange  thing  to 
me,  for  I  never  saw  such  a  thing  before :  yea,  and  while 
I  stood  looking  up  (for  then  I  could  not  forbear  looking), 
three  Shining  Ones  came  to  me.  One  of  them  testified 
that  my  sins  were  forgiven  me ;  another  stripped  me  of  my 
rags,  and  gave  me  this  broidered  coat  which  you  see ;  and 
the  third  set  the  mark  which  you  see  in  my  forehead,  and 
gave  me  this  sealed  roll  (and  with  that  he  plucked  it  out 
of  his  bosom). 

Piety.     But  you  saw  more  than  this,  did  you  not  ? 

Chr.  The  things  that  I  have  told  you  were  the  best ; 
yet  some  other  matter  I  saw,  as  namely,  I  saw  three 
men,  Simple,  Sloth,  and  Presumption,  lie  asleep,  a  little 
out  of  the  way  as  I  came,  with  irons  upon  their  heels  ; 
but  do  you  think  I  could  awake  them  ?  I  also  saw 
Formality  and  Hypocrisy  come  tumbling  over  the  wall,  to 
go,  as  they  pretended,  to  Zion ;  but  they  were  quickly 
lost,  even  as  myself  did  tell  them,  but  they  would 
not  believe.  But,  above  all,  I  found  it  hard  work  to 
get  up  this  hill,  and  as  hard  to  come  by  the  lions' 
mouth ;  and  truly,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  good  man 
the  Porter,  that  stands  at  the  gate,  I  do  not  know  but 
that,  after  all,  I  might  have  gone  back  again ;  but  now  I 
thank  God  I  am  here,  and  I  thank  you  for  receiving  of 
me. 

Then  Prudence  thought  good  to  ask  him  a  few 
questions,  and  desired  his  answer  to  them. 

Pr.     Do  you  not  think  sometimes  of  the     prudence  dis- 
country  from  whence  you  came  ?  courses  him 

Chr.     Yes ;   but   with   much   shame   and   detestation. 
Truly,   if    I   had   been   mindful   of  that     Christian's 
country  from  whence  I  came  out,  I  might     thoughts  of  his 
have  had  opportunity  to  have  returned ; 
but  now  I  desire  a  better  country,  that  is,  an  heavenly. 

£7 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Pf.  Do  you  not  yet  bear  away  with  you  some  of  the 
things  that  then  you  were  conversant  withal  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  but  greatly  against  my  will ;  especially  my 
Christian  dis-  inward  and  carnal  cogitations,  with  which 

tasted  with  carnal  all  my  countrymen,  as  well  as  myself, 

cogitations  j    v    i       j          T>  111 

were  delighted.  But,  now,  all  those 
things  are  my  grief;  and  might  I  but  choose  mine  own 

Christian's  choice  tn^ngs»  ^  would  choose  never  to  think  of 
those  things  more ;  but  when  I  would  be 
adoing  of  that  which  is  best,  that  which  is  worst  is  with 
me. 

Pr.  Do  you  not  find  sometimes  as  if  those  things  were 
vanquished,  which  at  other  times  are  your  perplexity  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  but  that  is  but  seldom  ;  but  they  are  to  me 
Christian's  golden  golden  hours  in  which  such  things  happen 

hours  to  me. 

Pr.  Can  you  remember  by  what  means  you  find  your 
annoyances  at  times  as  if  they  were  vanquished  ? 

Chr.  Yes  ;  when  I  think  what  I  saw  at  the  cross, 
that  will  do  it ;  and  when  I  look  upon  my 
broidered  coat,  that  will  do  it  -,  and  when 

'  ^°°^  *nt°  tnC  T°^  t^iat  *  Carrv  m  mV  bosom, 

that  will  do  it ;  and  when  my  thoughts 
wax  warm  about  whither  I  am  going,  that  will  do  it. 

Pr.  And  what  is  it  that  makes  you  so  desirous  to  go 
to  Mount  Zion  ? 

Chr.  Why,  there  I  hope  to  see  Him  alive  that  did 
Why  Christian  hang  dead  on  the  cross  ;  and  there  I  hope 
would  be  at  to  be  rid  of  all  those  things  that  to  this 

Mount  Zion  .  , 

day  are  in  me  an  annoyance  to  me  :  there 
they  say  there  is  no  death,  and  there  I  shall  dwell 
with  such  company  as  I  like  best.  For,  to  tell  you  truth, 
I  love  Him  because  I  was  by  Him  eased  of  my  burden  •, 
and  I  am  weary  of  my  inward  sickness.  I  would  fain  be 
where  I  shall  die  no  more,  and  with  the  company  that  shall 
continually  cry,  Holy,  holy,  holy. 

Charity  discourses         Then  said  Charity  to  Christian,  Have 
fe"11  you  a  family  ?  are  you  a  married  man  ? 

58 


DISCOURSE  WITH  CHARITY 

Chr.     I  have  a  wife  and  four  small  children. 

Char.  And  why  did  you  not  bring  them  along  with 
you  ? 

Chr.  Then  Christian  wept,  and  said,  Oh,  how  willingly 
would  I  have  done  it!  but  they  were  Christian,s lovc to 
all  of  them  utterly  averse  to  my  going  on  his  wife  and 

.1      •  children 

pilgrimage. 

Char.  But  you  should  have  talked  to  them,  and  have 
endeavoured  to  have  shown  them  the  danger  of  being 
behind. 

Chr.  So  I  did ;  and  told  them  also  what  God  had 
showed  to  me  of  the  destruction  of  our  city ;  but  I 
seemed  to  them  as  one  that  mocked,  and  they  believed 
me  not. 

Char.  And  did  you  pray  to  God  that  He  would  bless 
your  counsel  to  them  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  that  with  much  affection ;  for  you 
must  think  that  my  wife  and  poor  children  were  very  dear 
unto  me. 

Char.  But  did  you  tell  them  of  your  own  sorrow,  and 
fear  of  destruction  ?  for  I  suppose  that  destruction  was 
visible  enough  to  you. 

Chr.     Yes,  over,  and  over,  and  over.     They  might 
also  see  my  fears  in  my  countenance,  in 
my  tears,  and  also  in  my  trembling  under     of^rilh 
the  apprehension  of  the  judgment  that  did     be  read  in  his 

.  11111  very  countenance 

hang  over  our  heads  ;   but  all  was  not 
sufficient  to  prevail  with  them  to  come  with  me. 

Char.  But  what  could  they  say  for  themselves  why 
they  came  not  ? 

Chr.     Why,  my  wife  was  afraid  of  losing  this  world, 
and  my  children  were  given  to  the  foolish 
delights  of  youth  ;  so,  what  by  one  thing,     ScwCi?eUfndwhy 
and  what   by   another,   they  left  me   to     children  did  not  *o 

1  •  .   .  .       J  With  mm 

wander  in  this  manner  alone. 

Char.  But  did  you  not  with  your  vain  life  damp  all 
that  you,  by  words,  used  by  way  of  persuasion  to  bring 
them  away  with  you  ? 

59 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.  Indeed  I  cannot  commend  my  life,  for  I  am 
conscious  to  myself  of  many  failings  therein.  I  know 
also,  that  a  man,  by  his  conversation,  may  soon  overthrow 
Christian's  good  what  bv  argument  or  persuasion  he  doth 
conversation  before  labour  to  fasten  upon  others  for  their 
n  good.  Yet  this  I  can  say,  I  was  very 
wary  of  giving  them  occasion,  by  any  unseemly  action, 
to  make  them  averse  to  going  on  pilgrimage.  Yea,  for 
this  very  thing,  they  would  tell  me  I  was  too  precise, 
and  that  I  denied  myself  of  things  (for  their  sakes)  in 
which  they  saw  no  evil.  Nay,  I  think  I  may  say,  that  if 
what  they  saw  in  me  did  hinder  them,  it  was  my  great 
tenderness  in  sinning  against  God,  or  of  doing  any  wrong 
to  my  neighbour. 

Char.  Indeed,  Cain  hated  his  brother,  because  his 
own  works  were  evil,  and  his  brother's  righteous ; 

Christian  clear  of        and    if   th7    wife    and   children    have    been 

their  blood,  if  they  offended  with  thee  for  this,  they  there- 
by show  themselves  to  be  implacable 
to  good ;  and  thou  hast  delivered  thy  soul  from  their 
blood. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  thus  they  sat  talking 
together  until  supper  was  ready.  So  when  they  had 
What  Christian  made  ready,  they  sat  down  to  meat.  Now 
had  to  his  supper  the  tafoie  was  furnished  with  fat  things,  and 
with  wine  that  was  well  refined ;  and  all  their  talk  at  the 
table  was  about  the  LORD  of  the  hill ;  as,  namely,  about 
Their  talk  at  sup-  that  HE  had  done,  and  whereof  HE  did 
per  time  what  HE  did,  and  why  HE  had  builded  that 

house ;  and  by  what  they  said,  I  perceived  that  HE  had 
been  a  great  warrior,  and  had  fought  with  and  slain  him 
that  had  the  power  of  death,  but  not  without  great  danger 
to  Himself,  which  made  me  love  Him  the  more. 

For,  as  they  said,  and  as  I  believe,  said  Christian,  He 
did  it  with  the  loss  of  much  blood.  But  that  which 
put  glory  of  grace  into  all  He  did,  was,  that  He  did  it 
out  of  pure  love  to  his  country.  And  besides,  there 
were  some  of  them  of  the  household  that  said  they  had 

60 


THE  WONDERS  SHOWN 

been  and  spoke  with  Him  since  He  did  die  on  the  cross ; 
and  they  have  attested,  that  they  had  it  from  His  own 
lips,  that  He  is  such  a  lover  of  poor  pilgrims,  that  the 
like  is  not  to  be  found  from  the  east  to  the  west.  They, 
moreover,  gave  an  instance  of  what  they  affirmed  5  and 
that  was,  He  had  stripped  Himself  of  His  glory  that  He 
might  do  this  for  the  poor;  and  that  they  heard  Him 
say  and  affirm,  that  He  would  not  dwell  in  the  mountain 
of  Zion  alone.  They  said,  moreover,  that  He  had  made 
many  pilgrims  princes,  though  by  nature  Christ  makes 
they  were  beggars  born,  and  their  original  princes  of  beggars 
had  been  the  dunghill. 

Thus  they  discoursed  together  till  late  at  night;  and 
after  they  had  committed  themselves   to  their  Lord  for 
protection,  they  betook  themselves  to  rest.     The  pilgrim 
they  laid  in  a  large  upper  chamber,  whose     Christian's  bed- 
window  opened  towards  the   sun-rising,     chamber 
The  name  of  the  chamber  was  Peace,  where  he  slept  till 
break  of  day,  and  then  he  awoke  and  sang, 

Where  am  I  now?     Is  this  the  love  and  care 
Of  Jesus,  for  the  men  that  pilgrims  are, 
Thus  to  provide  I  that  I  should  be  forgiven, 
And  dwell  already  the  next  door  to  heaven! 

So  in  the  morning  they  all  got  up ;  and,  after  some  more 
discourse,  they  told  him  that  he  should  not  depart  till 
they  had  showed  him  the  rarities  of  that  place.  And  first 
they  had  him  into  the  study,  where  they  showed  him  the 
records  of  the  greatest  antiquity :  in  which, 

,  it!-  Christian  had  into 

as  I  remember  my  dream,  they  showed  him     the  study,  and 
first  the  pedigree  of  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  that     what  l 
He  was  the  Son  of  the  Ancient  of  Days,  and  came  by  that 
eternal  generation.     Here  also  was  more  fully  recorded 
the   acts   that   He   had   done,   and   the   names  of  many 
hundreds  that  He  had  taken  into  His  service ;  and  how 
He   had  placed    them   in    such    habitations,   that    could 
neither   by  length   of  days,  nor   decays   of  nature,  be 
dissolved. 

61 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that 
some  of  His  servants  had  done ;  as  how  they  had  sub- 
dued kingdoms,  wrought  righteousness,  obtained  promises, 
stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched  the  violence  of 
fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of  weakness  were 
made  strong,  waxed  valiant  in  fight,  and  turned  to  flight 
the  armies  of  the  aliens. 

Then  they  read  again  in  another  part  of  the  records  of 
the  house,  where  it  was  showed  how  willing  their  Lord 
was  to  receive  into  His  favour  any,  even  any,  though  they 
in  time  past  had  offered  great  affronts  to  His  person  and 
proceedings.  Here  also  were  several  other  histories  of 
many  other  famous  things,  of  all  which  Christian  had  a 
view ;  as  of  things  both  ancient  and  modern,  together 
with  prophecies  and  predictions  of  things  that  have  their 
certain  accomplishment,  both  to  the  dread  and  amazement 
of  enemies,  and  the  comfort  and  solace  of  pilgrims. 

The  next  day  they  took  him,  and  had  him  into 
Christian  had  into  the  armoury,  where  they  showed  him 
the  armoury  a\[  manner  of  furniture  which  their  Lord 

had    provided   for   pilgrims,   as   sword,   shield,   helmet, 
breastplate,  all-prayer,   and  shoes  that  would  not  wear? 
out.     And  there  was  here  enough  of  this  to  harness  out 
as  many  men  for  the  service  or  their  Lord,  as  there  be 
stars  in  the  heaven  for  multitude. 

They   also    showed   him   some   of  the   engines   with 

Christian  is  made  w^ic^  some  °f  His  servants  had  done 
to  see  ancient  wonderful  things.  They  showed  him 
Moses's  rod;  the  hammer  and  nail  with 
which  Jael  slew  Sisera ;  the  pitchers,  trumpets,  and  lamps 
too,  with  which  Gideon  put  to  flight  the  armies  of  Midian. 
Then  they  showed  him  the  ox's  goad,  wherewith  Shamgar 
slew  six  hundred  men.  They  showed  him  also  the  jaw- 
bone with  which  Samson  did  such  mighty  feats.  They 
showed  him  moreover  the  sling  and  stone  with  which  David 
slew  Goliath  of  Gath,  and  the  sword  also  with  which  their 
Lord  will  kill  the  man  of  sin,  in  the  day  that  He  shall 
rise  up  to  the  prey.  They  showed  him  besides  many 

62 


CHRISTIAN  IS  ARMED 

excellent  things,  with  which  Christian  was  much  de- 
lighted.    This  done,  they  went  to  their  rest  again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  on  the  morrow  he  got 
up  to  go  forwards,  but  they  desired  him  to  stay  till  the 
next  day  also ;  and  then,  said  they,  we  will,  if  the  day  be 
clear,  show  you  the  Delectable  Mountains ;  which,  they 
said,  would  yet  further  add  to  his  comfort,  because  they 
were  nearer  the  desired  haven  than  the  place  where  at 
present  he  was ;  so  he  consented  and  stayed.  When  the 
morning  was  up,  they  had  him  to  the  top  Christian  showed 
of  the  house,  and  bid  him  look  south.  So  the  Delectable 

i        T.  i  11111  i«  i  Mountains 

he  did,  and  behold  at  a  great  distance,  he 
saw  a  most  pleasant,  mountainous  country,  beautified  with 
woods,  vineyards,  fruits  of  all  sorts,  flowers  also,  with 
springs  and  fountains,  very  delectable  to  behold.  Then 
he  asked  the  name  of  the  country.  They  said  it  was 
Immanuel's  Land;  and  it  is  as  common,  said  they,  as 
this  hill  is,  to  and  for  all  the  pilgrims.  And  when  thou 
comest  there,  from  thence,  said  they,  thou  mayest  see 
to  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  City,  as  the  shepherds  that  live 
there  will  make  appear. 

Now  he  bethought  himself  of  setting  forward,  and  they 
were  willing  he  should.     But  first,  said     Christian  sets  for- 
they,  let  us  go  again  into  the  armoury.     ward 
So  they  did,  and  when  he  came  there,  they  harnessed  him 
from  head  to  foot  with  what  was  of  proof,  lest  perhaps 
he  should  meet  with  assaults  in  the  way.    He  being  there- 
fore thus  accoutred,  walked  out  with  his     Christian  sent 
friends  to  the  gate;  and  there  he  asked     away  armed 
the  Porter  if  he  saw  any  pilgrims  pass  by.     Then  the 
Porter  answered,  Yes. 

Chr.     Pray  did  you  know  him  ?  said  he. 

Port.     I  asked  his  name,  and  he  told  me  it  was  Faithful. 

Chr.  Oh,  said  Christian,  I  know  him;  he  is  my 
townsman,  my  near  neighbour,  he  comes  from  the  place 
where  I  was  born.  How  far  do  you  think  he  may  be 
before? 

Port.    He  is  got  by  this  time  below  the  hilL 

62 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.  "Well,  said  Christian,  good  Porter,  the  Lord  be 
How  Christian  w^k  thee,  and  add  to  all  thy  blessings 
ancTporter  greet  much  increase  of  the  kindness  that  thou 

at  parting  j^^  sjlowe(j  to  me> 

Then  he  began  to  go  forward ;  but  Discretion,  Piety, 
Charity  and  Prudence  would  accompany  him  down  to  the 
foot  of  the  hill.  So  they  went  on  together,  reiterating 
their  former  discourses,  till  they  came  to  go  down  the  hill. 
Then  said  Christian,  As  it  was  difficult  coming  up,  so,  so 
far  as  I  can  see,  it  is  dangerous  going  down.  Yes,  said 
Prudence,  so  it  is ;  for  it  is  an  hard  matter  for  a  man  to 
The  Valley  of  g°  down  into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  as 

Humiliation  thou  art  now,  and  to  catch  no  slip  by  the 

way  ;  therefore,  said  they,  are  we  come  out  to  accompany 
thee  down  the  hill.  So  he  began  to  go  down,  but  very 
warily  ;  yet  he  caught  a  slip  or  two. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  these  good  companions, 
when  Christian  was  gone  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill, 
gave  him  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  a  cluster  of 
raisins ;  and  then  he  went  his  way. 

But  now,  in  this  Valley  of  Humiliation,  poor  Christian 
was  hard  put  to  it ;  for  he  had  gone  but  a  little  way  before 
he  espied  a  foul  fiend  coming  over  the  field  to  meet  him : 
his  name  is  Apollyon.  Then  did  Christian  begin  to  be 
afraid,  and  to  cast  in  his  mind  whether  to  go  back,  or  to 
stand  his  ground.  But  he  considered  again  that  he  had  no 
Christian  no  armour  for  his  back,  and  therefore  thought 

armour  for  his  that  to  turn  the  back  to  him  might  give 
him  greater  advantage  with  ease  to  pierce 
him  with  his  darts ;  therefore  he  resolved  to  venture,  and 

Christian's  resoiu-  stand  hls.  ground  5  for»  thought  he,  had  I 
tion  in  the  approach  no  more  in  mine  eye  than  the  saving  of  my 

life,  'twould  be  the  best  way  to  stand. 
So  he  went  on,  and  Apollyon  met  him.  Now  the 
monster  was  hideous  to  behold  5  he  was  clothed  with 
scales  like  a  fish,  and  they  are  his  pride ;  he  had  wings 
like  a  dragon,  feet  like  a  bear,  and  out  of  his  belly 
came  fire  and  smoke ;  and  his  mouth  was  as  the  mouth  of 


CHRISTIAN    CLOTHED    3N    ARMOUR 
They  harnessed  him  from  head  to  foot  with  what  was  of  proof. 


r 


APOLLYON'S  DISCOURSE 

a  lion.  When  he  was  come  up  to  Christian,  he  beheld  him 
with  a  disdainful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to  question 
with  him. 

Apollyon.  Whence  come  you,  and  Discourse  betwixt 
whither  are  you  bound  r  Christian  and 

Chr.     I   am   come    from    the   City   of     Apollyon 
Destruction,    which   is    the    place   of   all    evil,   and   am 
going  to  the  City  of  Zion. 

Apol.  By  this  I  perceive  that  thou  art  one  of  my 
subjects  ;  for  all  that  country  is  mine,  and  I  am  the  prince 
and  god  of  it.  How  is  it,  then,  that  thou  hast  run  away 
from  thy  king  ?  Were  it  not  that  I  hope  thou  mayest  do 
me  more  service,  I  would  strike  thee  now  at  one  blow  to 
the  ground. 

Chr.  I  was  born,  indeed,  in  your  dominions,  but 
your  service  was  hard,  and  your  wages  such  as  a  man 
could  not  live  on ;  for  the  wages  of  sin  is  death  ;  there- 
fore when  I  was  come  to  years,  I  did,  as  other  considerate 
persons  do,  look  out,  if  perhaps  I  might  mend  myself. 

Apol.  There  is  no  prince  that  will  thus  lightly  lose 
his  subjects,  neither  will  I  as  yet  lose  thee  ; 

•  /  ,    .  Jc     i  .  Apollyon's  flattery 

but  since  thou  complamest  of  thy  service 

and  wages,  be  content  to  go  back,  and  what  our  country 

will  afford,  I  do  here  promise  to  give  thee. 

Chr.  But  I  have  left  myself  to  another,  even  to  the  King 
of  princes  ;  and  how  can  I  with  fairness  go  back  with  thee  ? 

Apol.    ,  Thou  hast  done  in  this  according  to  the  proverb, 
changed   a    bad    for  a  worse;    but    it  is     Apollyon under. 
ordinary   for    those    that    have   professed     values  Christ's 
themselves  His  servants,  after  a  while  to 
give  Him  the  slip,  and  return  again  to  me.     Do  thou  so 
too,  and  all  shall  be  well. 

Chr.  I  have  given  Him  my  faith,  and  sworn  my 
allegiance  to  Him ;  how  then  can  I  go  back  from  this,  and 
not  be  hanged  as  a  traitor  ? 

Apol.  Thou  didst  the  same  by  me,  and  yet  I  am  willing 
to  pass  by  all,  if  now  thou  wilt  yet  turn  again  and  go  back. 

Chr.     What  I  promised  thee  was  in  my  nonage :  and 

65  E 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

besides,  I  count  that  the  Prince,  under  whose  banner  now 
I  stand,  is  able  to  absolve  me,  yea,  and  to  pardon  also 
what  I  did  as  to  my  compliance  with  thee.  And  besides, 
O  thou  destroying  Apollyon,  to  speak  truth,  I  like  His 
service,  His  wages,  His  servants,  His  government,  His 
company,  and  country  better  than  thine ;  therefore  leave 
off  to  persuade  me  further ;  I  am  His  servant,  and  I  will 
follow  Him. 

Apol.  Consider  again,  when  thou  art  in  cool  blood, 
what  thou  art  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way 
that  thou  goest.  Thou  knowest  that  for 
the  most  Part  His  servants  come  to  an  ill 
from  persisting  in  end,  because  they  are  transgressors  against 
me  and  my  way.  How  many  of  them 
have  been  put  to  shameful  death  !  And  besides,  thou 
countest  His  service  better  than  mine  ;  whereas  He  never 
came  yet  from  the  place  where  He  is,  to  deliver  any  that 
served  Him  out  of  their  hands  ;  but  as  for  me,  how  many 
times,  as  all  the  world  very  well  knows,  have  I  delivered, 
either  by  power  or  fraud,  those  that  have  faithfully  served 
me,  from  Him  and  His,  though  taken  by  them  !  And  so  I 
will  deliver  thee. 

Chr.  His  forbearing  at  present  to  deliver  them,  is  on 
purpose  to  try  their  love,  whether  they  will  cleave  to  Him 
to  the  end ;  and  as  for  the  ill  end  thou  sayest  they  come 
to,  that  is  the  most  glorious  in  their  account.  For,  for 
present  deliverance,  they  do  not  much  expect  it;  for  they 
stay  for  their  glory ;  and  then  they  shall  have  it,  when 
their  Prince  comes  in  His,  and  the  glory  of  the  angels. 

Apol.  Thou  hast  already  been  unfaithful  in  thy  service 
to  Him  ;  and  how  dost  thou  think  to  receive  wages  of  Him  ? 

Chr.  Wherein,  O  Apollyon,  have  I  been  unfaithful 
to  Him  ? 

Apol.      Thou   didst   faint  at   first  setting  out,   when 

j  ad         thou  wast  almost  choked  in  the  Gulf  of 

Christian's  iSrmi-     Despond.      Thou    didst    attempt    wrong 

ties  against  him        ways  to  be  rid   Qf  thy  burden,  whereas 

thou  shouldst  have  stayed  till  thy  Prince  had  taken  it  oft 

66 


CHRISTIAN  AND  APOLLYON 

Thou  didst  sinfully  sleep,  and  lose  thy  choice  things. 
Thou  wast  also  almost  persuaded  to  go  back  at  the  sight 
of  the  lions.  And  when  thou  talkest  of  thy  journey,  and 
of  what  thou  hast  heard  and  seen,  thou  art  inwardly 
desirous  of  vain-glory  in  all  that  thou  sayest  or  doest. 

Chr.  All  this  is  true,  and  much  more  which  thou  hast 
left  out;  but  the  Prince  whom  I  serve  and  honour  is 
merciful  and  ready  to  forgive.  But  besides,  these  infirmities 
possessed  me  in  thy  country ;  for  there  I  sucked  them  in, 
and  I  have  groaned  under  them,  been  sorry  for  them,  and 
have  obtained  pardon  of  my  Prince. 

Apol.     Then  Apollyon  broke  out  into  a  grievous  rage, 
saying,  I  am  an  enemy  to  this  Prince;  I     Apollyon>ina 
hate  His  person,  His  laws,  and  people;  I     rage,  fails  upon 

•  i  i        Ctiristicin. 

am  come  out  on   purpose   to   withstand 
thee. 

Chr.  Apollyon,  beware  what  you  do,  for  I  am  in  the 
King's  highway,  the  way  of  holiness  ;  therefore  take  heed 
to  yourself. 

Apol.  Then  Apollyon  straddled  quite  over  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  way,  and  said,  I  am  void  of  fear  in  this 
matter.  Prepare  thyself  to  die  ;  for  I  swear  by  my 
infernal  den,  that  thou  shalt  go  no  farther :  here  will  I 
spill  thy  soul. — And  with  that  he  threw  a  flaming  dart  at 
his  breast ;  but  Christian  had  a  shield  in  his  hand,  with 
which  he  caught  it,  and  so  prevented  the  danger  of  that. 

Then  did  Christian  draw,  fcr  he  saw  'twas  time  to 
bestir  him  ;  and  Apollyon  as  fast  made  at  him,  throwing 
darts  as  thick  as  hail ;  by  the  which,  notwithstanding  all 
that  Christian  could  do  to  avoid  it,  Apollyon  wounded 
him  in  his  head,  his  hand,  and  foot.  This 
made  Christian  give  a  little  back  :  Apoll- 
yon,  therefore,  followed  his  work  amain, 
and  Christian  again  took  courage,  and  re- 
sisted as  manfully  as  he  could.  This  sore  combat  lasted 
for  above  half  a  day,  even  till  Christian  was  almost  quite 
spent.  For  you  must  know,  that  Christian,  by  reason  of 
his  wounds,  must  needs  grow  weaker  and  weaker. 

6? 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Then    Apollyon,    espying    his    opportunity,    began    to 

gather  up  close  to  Christian,  and  wrestling  with  him,  gave 

.  ,,       him  a  dreadful  fall ;  and  with  that  Chris- 

Apollyon  eastern  f  1/1  /•  *-i-»i 

Christian  down  to  tian  s  sword  flew  out  of  his  hand.  Then 
said  Apollyon,  I  am  sure  of  thee  now. 
And  with  that  he  had  almost  pressed  him  to  death ; 
so  that  Christian  began  to  despair  of  life.  But,  as 
God  would  have  it,  while  Apollyon  was  fetching  his 
last  blow,  thereby  to  make  a  full  end  of  this  good 
man,  Christian  nimbly  stretched  out  his  hand  for  his 
sword,  and  caught  it,  saying,  Rejoice  not  against  me, 
O  mine  enemy :  when  I  fall,  I  shall  arise ;  and  with 
Christian's  victory  that  gave  him  a  deadly  thrust,  which 
over  Apollyon  made  him  give  back,  as  one  that  had 

received  his  mortal  wound.  Christian  perceiving  that, 
made  at  him  again,  saying,  Nay,  in  all  these  things 
we  are  more  than  conquerors  through  Him  that  loved 
us.  And  with  that  Apollyon  spread  forth  his  dragon's 
wings,  and  sped  him  away,  that  Christian  saw  him  no 
more. 

In   this   combat   no   man  can  imagine,    unless  he  had 
f      seen  and  heard  as  I  did,  what  yelling  and 

A  oriel  relation  01  .  .  AH  i          111 

the  combat  by  the  hideous  roaring  Apollyon  made  all  the 
time  of  the  fight ;  he  spake  like  a  dragon : 
and  on  the  other  side  what  sighs  and  groans  burst  from 
Christian's  heart.  I  never  saw  him  all  the  while  give  so 
much  as  one  pleasant  look,  till  he  perceived  he  had 
wounded  Apollyon  with  his  two-edged  sword ;  then, 
indeed,  he  did  smile,  and  look  upward ;  but  'twas  the 
dreadfullest  fight  that  ever  I  saw. 

So  when  the  battle  was  over,  Christian  said,  I  will  here 

Christian  gives         £*ve  tnan^s  to  Him  that  hath  delivered 

God  thanks  for  his      me  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion  ;  to  Him 

that  did  help  me  against  Apollyon.     And 

so  he  did,  saying, 

Great  Beelzebub,  the  captain  of  this  fiend, 
Designed  my  ruin  ;   therefore  to  this  end 

68 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 

He  sent  him  harnessed  out,  and  he  with  rage, 
That  hellish  was,  did  fiercely  me  engage: 
But  blessed  Michael  helped  me,  and  I, 
By  dint  of  sword,  did  quickly  make  him  fly: 
Therefore  to  Him  let  me  give  lasting  praise, 
And  thank  and  bless  His  holy  name  always. 

Then  there  came  to  him  a  hand  with  some  of  the  leaves 
of  the  tree  of  life,  the  which  Christian  took,  and  applied 
to  the  wounds  that  he  had  received  in  the  battle,  and  was 
healed  immediately.      He   also   sat   down   in   that   place 
to  eat  bread,  and  to  drink  of  the  bottle  that  was  given 
him  a  little  before ;  so  being  refreshed,  he  addressed  him- 
self to  his  journey,  with  his  sword  drawn 
in  his   hand ;   for,  he   said,  I  know  not     £*££ j1ourfeyw°ith 
but  some  other  enemy  may  be  at  hand.     {jj^hjj^*™ 
But  he   met   with  no  other  affront  from 
Apollyon  quite  through  this  valley. 

Now  at  the  end  of  this  valley  was  another,  called 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death;  and  TheVaiieyofthe 
Christian  must  needs  go  through  it,  be-  Shadow  of  Death 
cause  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  lay  through  the  midst 
of  it.  Now  this  valley  is  a  very  solitary  place :  the 
prophet  Jeremiah  thus  describes  it:  A  wilderness,  a 
land  of  deserts  and  of  pits,  a  land  of  drought,  and  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  a  land  that  no  man,  but  a  Christian, 
passeth  through,  and  where  no  man  dwelt. 

Now  here  Christian  was  worse  put  to  it  than  in  his 
fight  with  Apollyon,  as  by  the  sequel  you  shall  see. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  when  Christian  was  got 
on  the  borders  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  there  met 
him  two  men,  children  of  them  that  The  children  of  the 
brought  up  an  evil  report  of  the  good  land,  sPies  *°  back 
making  haste  to  go  back ;  to  whom  Christian  spake  as 
follows. 

Chr.     Whither  are  you  going  ? 

Men.  They  said,  Back,  back,  and  we  would  have  you 
do  so  too,  if  either  life  or  peace  is  prized  by  you. 

Chr.     Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  said  Christian. 
.69 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Men.  Matter  ?  said  they ;  we  were  going  that  way 
as  you  are  going,  and  went  as  far  as  we  durst :  and 
indeed  we  were  almost  past  coming  back;  for  had  we 
gone  a  little  farther,  we  had  not  been  here  to  bring  the 
news  to  thee. 

Chr.     But  what  have  you  met  with  ?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Why,  we  were  almost  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  but  that  by  good  hap  we  looked  before 
us,  and  saw  the  danger  before  we  came  to  it. 

Chr.     But  what  have  you  seen  ?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Seen  ?  why,  the  valley  itself,  which  is  as  dark 
as  pitch :  we  also  saw  there  the  hobgoblins,  satyrs,  and 
dragons  of  the  pit :  we  heard  also  in  that  valley  a  con- 
tinual howling  and  yelling,  as  of  a  people  under  unutter- 
able misery,  who  were  sat  bound  in  affliction  and  irons ; 
and  over  that  valley  hangs  the  discouraging  clouds  of 
confusion  :  death  also  doth  always  spread  his  wings  over 
it.  In  a  word,  it  is  every  whit  dreadful,  being  utterly 
without  order. 

Chr.  Then,  said  Christian,  I  perceive  not  yet,  by 
what  you  have  said,  but  that  this  is  my  way  to  the 
desired  haven. 

Men.  Be  it  thy  way,  we  will  not  choose  it  for 
ours. 

So  they  parted,  and  Christian  went  on  his  way,  but 
still  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  for  fear  lest  he 
should  be  assaulted. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  so  far  as  this  valley  reached, 
there  was  on  the  right  hand  a  very  deep  ditch ;  that 
ditch  is  it,  into  which  the  blind  hath  led  the  blind  in 
all  ages,  and  have  both  there  miserably  perished.  Again, 
behold,  on  the  left  hand  there  was  a  very  dangerous  quag, 
into  which,  if  even  a  good  man  falls,  he  finds  no  bottom 
for  his  foot  to  stand  on :  into  this  quag  King  David  once 
did  fall,  and  had  no  doubt  there  been  smothered,  had 
not  He  that  is  able  plucked  him  out. 

The  pathway  was  here  also  exceeding  narrow,  and 
therefore  good  Christian  was  the  more  put  to  it ;  for  when 


HORRORS  OF  THIS  VALLEY 

he  sought,  in  the  dark,  to  shun  the  ditch  on  the  one  hand, 
he  was  ready  to  tip  over  into  the  mire  on  the  other  :  also 
when  he  sought  to  escape  the  mire,  without  great  careful- 
ness he  would  be  ready  to  fall  into  the  ditch  Thus 
he  went  on,  and  I  heard  him  here  sigh  bitterly ;  for 
besides  the  danger  mentioned  above,  the  pathway  was 
here  so  dark,  that  ofttimes,  when  he  lift  up  his  foot 
to  go  forward,  he  knew  not  where,  nor  upon  what  he 
should  set  it  next. 

About  the  midst  of  this  valley  I  perceived  the  mouth  of 
hell  to  be,  and  it  stood  also  hard  by  the  way-side.  Now, 
thought  Christian,  what  shall  I  do  ?  And  ever  and  anon 
the  flame  and  smoke  would  come  out  in  such  abundance, 
with  sparks  and  hideous  noises  (things  that  cared  not  for 
Christian's  sword,  as  did  Apollyon  before),  that  he  was 
forced  to  put  up  his  sword,  and  betake  himself  to  another 
weapon,  called  All-prayer,  so  he  cried,  in  my  hearing, 
O  Lord,  I  beseech  Thee,  deliver  my  soul.  Thus  he 
went  on  a  great  while,  yet  still  the  flames  would  be 
reaching  towards  him  5  also  he  heard  doleful  voices, 
and  rushings  to  and  fro,  so  that  sometimes  he  thought  he 
should  be  torn  in  pieces,  or  trodden  down  like  mire  in  the 
streets.  This  frightful  sight  was  seen,  and  these  dread- 
ful noises  were  heard  by  him,  for  several  miles  together ; 
and  coming  to  a  place  where  he  thought  he  heard  a  com- 
pany of  fiends  coming  forward  to  meet  Christian  put  to  a 
him,  he  stopped,  and  began  to  muse  what  stand  but  for  a 
he  had  best  to  do.  Sometimes  he  had  whl1 
half  a  thought  to  go  back;  then  again  he  thought  he 
might  be  half  way  through  the  valley.  He  remembered 
also,  how  he  had  already  vanquished  many  a  danger ;  and 
that  the  danger  of  going  back  might  be  much  more 
than  for  to  go  forward.  So  he_resolved  to  go  on; 
yet  the  fiends  seemed  to  come  nearer  and  nearer.  But 
when  they  were  come  even  almost  at  him,  he  cried  out 
with  a  most  vehement  voice,  I  will  walk  in  the  strength 
of  the  Lord  God.  So  they  gave  back,  and  came  no 
farther. 

71 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

One  thing  I  would  not  let  slip.  I  took  notice  that  now 
poor  Christian  was  so  confounded,  that  he  did  not  know 
his  own  voice ;  and  thus  I  perceived  it.  Just  when  he 
was  come  over  against  the  mouth  of  the 
behiSSveathSahdee  burning  pit,  one  of  the  wicked  ones  got 
spake  bias-  behind  him,  and  stepped  up  softly  to 

phemies,  when  .  .  j          i  •  i 

Was  Satan  that  him,  and,  whispermgly,  suggested  many 
info^mi^d6111  grievous  blasphemies  to  him,  which  he 
verily  thought  had  proceeded  from  his 
own  mind.  This  put  Christian  more  to  it  than  any  thing 
that  he  met  with  before,  even  to  think  that  he  should  now 
blaspheme  Him  that  he  loved  so  much  before.  Yet  if  he 
could  have  helped,  he  would  not  have  done  it ;  but  he  had 
not  the  discretion  either  to  stop  his  ears,  nor  to  know  from 
whence  those  blasphemies  came. 

When  Christian  had  travelled  in  this  disconsolate  con- 
dition some  considerable  time,  he  thought  he  heard  the 
voice  of  a  man,  going  before  him,  saying,  Though  I 
walk  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  I  will 
fear  none  ill,  for  Thou  art  with  me. 

Then  was  he  glad,  and  that  for  these  reasons  : 

First,  Because  he  gathered  from  thence,  that  some  who 
feared  God  were  in  this  valley  as  well  as  himself. 

Secondly,  For  that  he  perceived  God  was  with  them, 
though  in  that  dark  and  dismal  state.  And  why  not, 
thought  he,  with  me  ?  though  by  reason  of  the  impedi- 
ment that  attends  this  place,  I  cannot  perceive  it. 

Thirdly,  For  that  he  hoped  (could  he  overtake  them) 
to  have  company  by  and  by.  So  he  went  on,  and  called 
to  him  that  was  before  ;  but  he  knew  not  what  to  answer, 

Christian  glad  at         f°r    tnat    ^e    a^SO    thought    himself    tO     be 

break  of  day  alone.    And  by  and  by  the  day  broke  :  then 

said  Christian,  He  hath  turned  the  shadow  of  death  into 
the  morning. 

Now  morning  being  come,  he  looked  back,  not  of 
desire  to  return,  but  to  see,  by  the  light  of  the  day,  what 
hazards  he  had  gone  through  in  the  dark.  So  he  saw 
more  perfectly  the  ditch  that  was  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 


IN   THE    VALLEY   OP   THE    SHADOW   OF   DEATH 

80  he  cned  in  my  hearing,  "  O  Lord,  I  beseech  Thee, 

deliver  my  soul." 


THE  GIANTS  OF  THE  VALLEY 

quag  that  was  on  the  other  ;  also  how  narrow  the  way 
was  which  led  betwixt  them  both.  Also  now  he  saw  the 
hobgoblins,  and  satyrs,  and  dragons  of  the  pit,  but  all  afar 
off;  for  after  break  of  day  they  came  not  nigh,  yet  they 
were  discovered  to  him,  according  to  that  which  is  written, 
He  discovereth  deep  things  out  of  darkness,  and  bringeth 
out  to  light  the  shadow  of  death. 

Now  was  Christian  much  affected  with  his  deliverance 
from  all  the  dangers  of  his  solitary  way ;  which  dangers, 
though  he  feared  them  more  before,  yet  he  saw  them 
more  clearly  now,  because  the  light  of  the  day  made  them 
conspicuous  to  him.  And  about  this  time  the  sun  was 
rising,  and  this  was  another  mercy  to  Christian ;  for  you 
must  note,  that  though  the  first  part  of  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death  was  dangerous,  yet  this  The  second  part 
second  part,  which  he  was  yet  to  go,  was,  of  this  valley  very 
if  possible,  far  more  dangerous  ;  for,  from 
the  place  where  he  now  stood,  even  to  the  end  of  the 
valley,  the  way  was  all  along  set  so  full  of  snares,  traps, 
gins,  and  nets  here,  and  so  full  of  pits,  pitfalls,  deep  holes, 
and  shelvings  down  there,  that  had  it  now  been  dark,  as 
it  was  when  he  came  the  first  part  of  the  way,  had  he  had 
a  thousand  souls,  they  had  in  reason  been  cast  away  ;  but, 
as  I  said,  just  now  the  sun  was  rising.  Then  said  he, 
His  candle  shineth  on  my  head,  and  by  His  light  I  go 
through  darkness. 

In  this  light,  therefore,  he  came  to  the  end  of  the 
valley.  Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  at  the  end  of  this  jl 
valley  lay  blood,  bones,  ashes,  and  mingled  bodies  of  men,-  '" 
even  of  pilgrims  that  had  gone  this  way  formerly ;  and 
while  I  was  musing  what  should  be  the  reason,  I  espied  a 
little  before  me  a  cave,  where  two  giants,  Pope  and  Pagan, 
dwelt  in  old  time  ;  by  whose  power  and  tyranny  the  men, 
whose  bones,  blood,  ashes,  etc.,  lay  there,  were  cruelly  put 
to  death.  But  by  this  place  Christian  went  without  much 
danger,  whereat  I  somewhat  wondered  ;  but  I  have  learnt 
since,  that  Pagan  has  been  dead  many  a  day ;  and  as  for 
thf  other,  though  he  be  yet  alive,  he  is,  by  reason  of  age, 

*r  <•> 
70 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  also  of  the  many  shrewd  brushes  that  he  met  with  in 
his  younger  days,  grown  so  crazy  and  stiff  in  his  joints, 
that  he  can  now  do  little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave's  mouth, 
grinning  at  pilgrims  as  they  go  by,  and  biting  his  nails 
because  he  cannot  come  at  them. 

So  I  saw  that  Christian  went  on  his  way ;  yet,  at  the 
sight  of  the  old  man  that  sat  in  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  he 
could  not  tell  what  to  think,  especially  because  he  spake 
to  him,  though  he  could  not  go  after  him,  saying,  You 
will  never  mend  till  more  of  you  be  burned.  But  he  held 
his  peace,  and  set  a  good  face  on't,  and  so  went  by,  and 
catched  no  hurt.  Then  sang  Christian : 

O  world  of  wonders  (I  can  say  no  less), 

That  I  should  be  preserved  in  that  distress 

That  I  have  met  with  here  1    O  blessed  be 

That  hand  that  from  it  hath  delivered  me  I 

Dangers  in  darkness,  devils,  hell,  and  sin, 

Did  compass  me,  while  I  this  vale  was  in ; 

Yea,  snares,  and  pits,  and  traps,  and  nets  did  lie 

My  path  about,  that  worthless,  silly  I 

Might  have  been  catched,  entangled,  and  cast  down : 

But  since  I  live,  let  JESUS  wear  the  crown. 

Now  as  Christian  went  on  his  way,  he  came  to  a  little 
ascent,  which  was  cast  up  on  purpose  that  pilgrims  might 
see  before  them :  up  there,  therefore,  Christian  went ;  and 
looking  forward,  he  saw  Faithful  before  him  upon  his 
journey.  Then  said  Christian  aloud,  Ho,  ho ;  so-ho  ;  stay, 
and  I  will  be  your  companion.  At  that  Faithful  looked 
behind  him ;  to  whom  Christian  cried,  Stay,  stay,  till  I 
come  up  to  you.  But  Faithful  answered,  No,  I  am  upon 
my  life,  and  the  avenger  of  blood  is  behind  me. 

At  this  Christian  was  somewhat  moved,  and  putting  to 
Christian  over-  all  his  strength,  he  quickly  got  up  with 
takes  Faithful  Faithful,  and  did  also  overrun  him  ;  so  the 
last  was  first.  Then  did  Christian  vaingloriously  smile, 
because  he  had  gotten  the  start  of  his  brother ;  but  not 
taking  good  heed  to  his  feet,  he  suddenly  stumbled  and 
fell,  and  could  not  rise  again  until  Faithful  came  up  to 
help  him. 

74 


CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  they  went  very  lovingly  on 
together,  and  had  sweet  discourse  of  all 
things    that    had    happened   to   them    in 
their    pilgrimage;     and     thus     Christian 
began. 

Chr.  My  honoured  and  well-beloved  brother  Faithful, 
I  am  glad  that  I  have  overtaken  you,  and  that  God  has  so 
tempered  our  spirits,  that  we  can  walk  as  companions  in 
this  so  pleasant  a  path. 

Faith.  I  had  thought,  dear  friend,  to  have  had  your 
company  quite  from  our  town ;  but  you  did  get  the  start 
of  me ;  wherefore  I  was  forced  to  come  thus  much  of  the 
way  alone. 

Chr.  How  long  did  you  stay  in  the  City  of  Destruc- 
tion, before  you  set  out  after  me  on  your  pilgrimage  ? 

Faith.     Till  I  could  stay  no  longer ;   for  there  was 
great  talk  presently  after  you  were  gone     Their  talk  about 
out,  that  our  city  would,  in  short  time,     the  country  from 
with  fire  from  heaven  be  burned  down  to 
the  ground. 

Chr.     What !  did  your  neighbours  talk  so  ? 

Faith.     Yes,  'twas  for  a  while  in  everybody's  mouth. 

Chr.  What !  and  did  no  more  of  them  but  you  come 
out  to  escape  the  danger  ? 

Faith.  Though  there  was,  as  I  said,  a  great  talk 
thereabout,  yet  I  do  not  think  they  did  firmly  believe  it. 
For  in  the  heat  of  the  discourse,  I  heard  some  of  them 
deridingly  speak  of  you,  and  of  your  desperate  journey ; 
for  so  they  called  this  your  pilgrimage.  But  I  did  believe, 
and  do  still,  that  the  end  of  our  city  will  be  with  fire  and 
brimstone  from  above ;  and  therefore  I  have  made  my 
escape. 

Chr.     Did  you  hear  no  talk  of  neighbour  Pliable? 

Faith.  Yes,  Christian,  I  heard  that  he  followed  you 
till  he  came  at  the  Slough  of  Despond,  where,  as  some 
said,  he  fell  in ;  but  he  would  not  be  known  to  have  so 
done  •,  but  I  am  sure  he  was  soundly  bedabbled  with  that 
kind  of  dirt. 

7J 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.     And  what  said  the  neighbours  to  him  ? 

Faith.  He  hath,  since  his  going  back,  been  had 
HOW  Pliable  was  greatly  in  derision,  and  that  among  all 
accounted  of  when  sorts  of  people:  some  do  mock  and 
despise  him,  and  scarce  will  any  set  him 
on  work.  He  is  now  seven  times  worse  than  if  he  had 
never  gone  out  of  the  city. 

Chr.  But  why  should  they  be  so  set  against  him,  since 
they  also  despise  the  way  that  he  forsook  ? 

Faith.  Oh,  they  say,  Hang  him ;  he  is  a  turncoat  5  he 
was  not  true  to  his  profession  I  I  think  God  has  stirred 
up  even  his  enemies  to  hiss  at  him,  and  make  him  a 
proverb,  because  he  hath  forsaken  the  way. 

Chr.  Had  you  no  talk  with  him  before  you  came 
out? 

Faith.  I  met  him  once  in  the  streets,  but  he  leered 
away  on  the  other  side,  as  one  ashamed  of  what  he  had 
done ;  so  I  spake  not  to  him. 

Chr.     Well,  at  my  first  setting  out  I  had  hopes  of  that 

man ;  but  now  I  fear  he  will  perish  in  the  overthrow  of 

the  city.     For  it  has  happened  to  him  according  to  the  true 

proverb,  The  dog  is  turned  to  his  vomit 

again,  and  the  sow  that  was  washed  to  her 

wallowing  in  the  mire. 

Faith.  They  are  my  fears  of  him  too ;  but  who  can 
hinder  that  which  will  be  ? 

Chr.  Well,  neighbour  Faithful,  said  Christian,  let  us 
leave  him,  and  talk  of  things  that  more  immediately  con- 
cern ourselves.  Tell  me  now  what  you  have  met  with  in 
the  way  as  you  came ;  for  I  know  you  have  met  with  some 
things,  or  else  it  may  be  writ  for  a  wonder. 

Faith.  I  escaped  the  slough  that  I  perceived  you  fell 
into,  and  got  up  to  the  gate  without  that  danger ;  only  I 
Faithful  assaulted  met  witn  one  whose  name  was  Wanton, 
by  Wanton  who  had  like  to  have  done  me  a  mis- 

chief. 

Chr.  'Twas  well  you  escaped  her  net ;  Joseph  was 
hard  put  to  it  by  her,  and  h<-  escaped  her  as  you  did ;  but 


CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL 

it  had  like  to  have  cost  him  his  life.     But  what  did  she  do 
to  you  ? 

Faith.  You  cannot  think  (but  that  you  know  some- 
thing) what  a  flattering  tongue  she  had ;  she  lay  at  me 
hard  to  turn  aside  with  her,  promising  me  all  manner  of 
content. 

Chr.  Nay,  she  did  not  promise  you  the  content  of  a 
good  conscience. 

Faith.  You  know  that  I  mean  all  carnal  and  fleshly 
content. 

Chr.  Thank  God  you  have  escaped  her ;  the  abhorred 
of  the  Lord  shall  fall  into  her  ditch. 

Faith.  Nay,  I  know  not  whether  I  did  wholly  escape 
her  or  no. 

Chr.  Why,  I  trow,  you  did  not  consent  to  her 
desires  ? 

Faith.  No,  not  to  defile  myself;  for  I  remembered 
an  old  writing  that  I  had  seen,  which  said,  Her  steps 
take  hold  of  hell.  So  I  shut  mine  eyes,  because  I 
would  not  be  bewitched  with  her  looks.  Then  she  railed 
on  me,  and  I  went  my  way. 

Chr.     Did  you  meet  with  no  other  assault  as  you  came  ? 

Faith.  When  I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  called 
Difficulty,  I  met  with  a  very  aged  man,  He  is  assaulted 
who  asked  me  what  I  was,  and  whither  by  Adam  the  first 
bound.  I  told  him  that  I  am  a  pilgrim,  going  to  the 
Celestial  City.  Then  said  the  old  man,  Thou  lookest 
like  an  honest  fellow ;  wilt  thou  be  content  to  dwell  with 
me,  for  the  wages  that  I  shall  give  thee  ?  Then  I  asked 
him  his  name,  and  where  he  dwelt.  He  said  his  name 
was  Adam  the  first,  and  that  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of 
Deceit.  I  asked  him  then,  what  was  his  work,  and 
what  the  wages  that  he  would  give.  He  told  me,  that 
his  work  was  many  delights ;  and  his  wages,  that 
I  should  be  his  heir  at  last.  I  further  asked  him,  what 
house  he  kept,  and  what  other  servants  he  had.  So  he 
told  me,  that  his  house  was  maintained  with  all  the 
dainties  in  the  world,  and  that  his  servants  were  those  of 

77 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

his  own  begetting.  Then  I  asked  how  many  children 
he  had.  He  said  that  he  had  but  three  daughters,  the 
Lust  of  the  Flesh,  the  Lust  of  the  Eyes,  and  the  Pride  of 
Life,  and  that  I  should  marry  them,  if  I  would.  Then 
I  asked  how  long  time  he  would  have  me  live  with  him, 
and  he  told  me,  as  long  as  he  lived  himself. 

Chr.  Well,  and  what  conclusion  came  the  old  man 
and  you  to  at  last? 

Faith.      Why,    at  first    I  found    myself   somewhat 
inclinable  to  go  with  the  man,  for  I  thought  he  spake 
very  fair ;  but  looking  in  his  forehead,  as  I  talked  with . 
him,  I  saw  there  written,  Put  off  the  old  man  with  his 
deeds. 

Chr.    And  how  then  ? 

Faith.  Then  it  came  burning  hot  into  my  mind, 
whatever  he  said,  and  however  he  flattered,  when  he  got 
me  home  to  his  house,  he  would  sell  me  for  a  slave.  So 
I  bid  him  forbear  to  talk,  for  I  would  not  come  near  the 
door  of  his  house.  Then  he  reviled  me,  and  told  me 
that  he  would  send  such  a  one  after  me  that  should  make 
my  way  bitter  to  my  soul.  So  I  turned  to  go  away  from 
him ;  but  just  as  I  turned  myself  to  go  thence,  I  felt  him 
take  hold  of  my  flesh,  and  give  me  such  a  deadly  twitch 
back,  that  I  thought  he  had  pulled  part  of  me  after 
himself:  this  made  me  cry,  O  wretched  man!  So  I 
went  on  my  way  up  hill. 

Now  when  I  had  got  about  half  way  up,  I  looked 
behind  me,  and  saw  one  coming  after  me,  swift  as  the 
wind ;  so  he  overtook  me  just  about  the  place  where  the 
settle  stands. 

Chr.  Just  there,  said  Christian,  did  I  sit  down  to 
rest  me ;  but  being  overcome  with  sleep,  I  there  lost  this 
roll  out  of  my  bosom. 

Faith.  But,  good  brother,  hear  me  out.  So  soon  as 
the  man  overtook  me,  he  was  but  a  word  and  a  blow ;  for 
down  he  knocked  me,  and  laid  me  for  dead.  But  when  I 
was  a  little  come  to  myself  again,  I  asked  him  wherefore 
he  served  me  so.  He  said,  because  of  my  secret  inclining 

78 


CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL 

to  Adam  the  first.  And  with  that  he  struck  me  another 
deadly  blow  on  the  breast,  and  beat  me  down  backward  5 
so  I  lay  at  his  foot  as  dead  as  before.  So  when  I  came  to 
myself  again,  I  cried  him  mercy :  but  he  said,  I  know  not 
how  to  show  mercy ;  and  with  that  knocked  me  down 
again.  He  had  doubtless  made  an  end  of  me,  but  that 
One  came  by,  and  bid  him  forbear. 

Chr.     Who  was  that  that  bid  him  forbear  ? 

Faith.  I  did  not  know  Him  at  first ;  but  as  He  went 
by,  I  perceived  the  holes  in  His  hands  and  His  side :  then 
I  concluded  that  He  was  our  Lord.  So  I  went  up 
the  hill. 

Chr.     That  man  that  overtook  you  was  Moses.     He 
spareth   none ;   neither  knoweth   he   how     The  temper  of 
to  show  mercy  to   those   that  transgress     Moses 
his  law. 

Faith.  I  know  it  very  well ;  it  was  not  the  first  time 
that  he  has  met  with  me.  'Twas  he  that  came  to  me 
when  I  dwelt  securely  at  home,  and  that  told  me  he  would 
burn  my  house  over  my  head  if  I  stayed  there. 

Chr.  But  did  not  you  see  the  house  that  stood  there,  on 
the  top  of  the  hill  on  the  side  of  which  Moses  met  you  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  and  the  lions  too,  before  I  came  at  it. 
But  for  the  lions,  I  think  they  were  asleep,  for  it  was 
about  noon ;  and  because  I  had  so  much  of  the  day 
before  me,  I  passed  by  the  Porter,  and  came  down 
the  hill. 

Chr.  He  told  me,  indeed,  that  he  saw  you  go  by  ;  but 
I  wish  that  you  had  called  at  the  house,  for  they  would 
have  showed  you  so  many  rarities,  that  you  would  scarce 
have  forgot  them  to  the  day  of  your  death.  But  pray  tell 
me,  did  you  meet  nobody  in  the  Valley  of  Humility  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  I  met  with  one  Discontent,  who  would 
willingly  have  persuaded  me  to  go  back  Faithful  assaulted 
again  with  him :  his  reason  was,  for  that  b*  Discontent 
the  valley  was  altogether  without  honour.  He  told  me, 
moreover,  that  there  to  go  was  the  way  to  disobey  all 
my  friends,  as  Pride,  Arrogancy,  Self-Conceit,  Worldly 

79 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Glory,  with  others,  who  he  knew,  as  he  said,  would  be 
very  much  offended,  if  I  made  such  a  fool  of  myself  as  to 
wade  through  this  valley. 

Chr.     Well,  and  how  did  you  answer  him  ? 

Faith.  I  told  him,  that  although  all  these  that  he 
Faithful's  answer  named  might  claim  a  kindred  of  men,  and 
to  Discontent  that  rightly  (for  indeed  they  were  my 

relations  according  to  the  flesh),  yet  since  I  became  a 
pilgrim,  they  have  disowned  me,  and  I  also  have  rejected 
them ;  and  therefore  they  were  to  me  now  no  more  than 
if  they  had  never  been  of  my  lineage.  I  told  him, 
moreover,  that  as  to  this  valley,  he  had  quite  mis- 
represented the  thing ;  for  before  honour  is  humility, 
and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall.  Therefore,  said  I,  I 
had  rather  go  through  this  valley  to  the  honour  that  was 
so  accounted  by  the  wisest,  than  choose  that  which  he 
esteemed  most  worth  our  affections. 

Chr.     Met  you  with  nothing  else  in  that  valley? 

Faith.  Yes,  I  met  with  Shame;  but  of  all  the  men 
He  is  assaulted  that  I  met  with  in  my  pilgrimage,  he,  I 
with  Shame  think,  bears  the  wrong  name.  The  other 

would  be  said  nay,  after  a  little  argumentation,  and  some- 
what else ;  but  this  bold-faced  Shame  would  never  have 
done. 

Chr.     Why,  what  did  he  say  to  you  ? 

Faith.  What  ?  why  he  objected  against  religion  itself. 
He  said  it  was  a  pitiful,  low,  sneaking  business  for  a  man 
to  mind  religion.  He  said,  that  a  tender  conscience  was 
an  unmanly  thing ;  and  that  for  a  man  to  watch  over  his 
words  and  ways,  so  as  to  tie  up  himself  from  that  hectoring 
liberty  that  the  brave  spirits  of  the  times  accustom  them- 
selves unto,  would  make  him  the  ridicule  of  the  times. 
He  objected  also,  that  but  few  of  the  mighty,  rich,  or  wise 
were  ever  of  my  opinion  ;  nor  any  of  them  neither,  before 
they  were  persuaded  to  be  fools,  and  to  be  of  a  voluntary 
fondness  to  venture  the  loss  of  all,  for  nobody  else  knows 
what.  He,  moreover,  objected  the  base  and  low  estate  and 
condition  of  those  that  were  chiefly  the  pilgrims  of  the 

80 


CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL 

times  in  which  they  Jived  ;  also  their  ignorance  and  want 
of  understanding  in  all  natural  science.  Yea,  he  did  hold 
me  to  it  at  that  rate  also  about  a  great  many  more  things 
than  here  I  relate  ;  as,  that  it  was  a  shame  to  sit  whining 
and  mourning  under  a  sermon,  and  a  shame  to  come  sighing 
and  groaning  home ;  that  it  was  a  shame  to  ask  my  neigh- 
bour forgiveness  for  petty  faults,  or  to  make  restitution 
where  I  have  taken  from  any.  He  said  also,  that  religion 
made  a  man  grow  strange  to  the  great,  because  of  a  few 
vices  (which  he  called  by  finer  names),  and  made  him 
own  and  respect  the  base,  because  of  the  same  religious 
fraternity  :  and  is  not  this,  said  he,  a  shame  ? 

Chr.     And  what  did  you  say  to  him  ? 

Faith.  Say  ?  I  could  not  tell  what  to  say  at  first. 
Yea,  he  put  me  so  to  it,  that  my  blood  came  up  in  my 
face;  even  this  Shame  fetched  it  up,  and  had  almost 
beat  me  quite  off.  But  at  last  I  began  to  consider, 
that  that  which  is  highly  esteemed  among  men,  is  had 
in  abomination  with  God.  And  I  thought  again,  This 
Shame  tells  me  what  men  are ;  but  it  tells  me  nothing 
what  God,  or  the  word  of  God,  is.  And  I  thought, 
moreover,  that  at  the  day  of  doom  we  shall  not  be  doomed 
to  death  or  life,  according  to  the  hectoring  spirits  of  the 
world,  but  according  to  the  wisdom  and  law  of  the 
Highest.  Therefore,  thought  I,  what  God  says  is  best, 
is  best,  though  all  the  men  in  the  world  are  against  it. 
Seeing,  then,  that  God  prefers  His  religion  ;  seeing  God 
prefers  a  tender  conscience  ;  seeing  they  that  make  them- 
selves fools  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  are  wisest,  and 
that  the  poor  man  that  loveth  Christ  is  richer  than  the 
greatest  man  in  the  world  that  hates  Him ;  Shame, 
depart,  thou  art  an  enemy  to  my  salvation.  Shall  I 
entertain  thee  against  my  sovereign  Lord  ?  how  then  shall  I 
look  Him  in  the  face  at  His  coming  ?  Should  I  now  be 
ashamed  of  His  ways  and  servants,  how  can  I  expect  the 
blessing  ?  But  indeed  this  Shame  was  a  bold  villain ;  I 
could  scarce  shake  him  out  of  my  company;  yea,  he 
would  be  haunting  of  me,  and  continually  whispering  me 

8l  F 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

in  the  ear  with  some  one  or  other  of  the  infirmities  that 
attend  religion.  But  at  last  I  told  him  'twas  but  in  vain 
to  attempt  further  in  this  business  ;  for  those  things  that 
he  disdained,  in  those  did  I  see  most  glory  :  and  so  at  last 
2  got  past  this  importunate  one.  And  when  I  had  shaken 
him  off,  then  I  began  to  sing  : 

The  trials  that  those  men  do  meet  withal, 

That  are  obedient  to  the  heavenly  call, 

Are  manifold,  and  suited  to  the  flesh, 

And  come,  and  come,  and  come  again  afresh; 

That  now,  or  sometimes  else,  we  by  them  may 

Be  taken,  overcome,  and  cast  away. 

O  let  the  pilgrims,  let  the  pilgrims  then, 

Be  vigilant,  «and  quit  themselves  like  men  I 

Chr.  I  am  glad,  my  brother,  that  thou  didst  withstand 
this  villain  so  bravely ;  for  of  all,  as  thou  sayest,  I  think 
he  has  the  wrong  name  ;  for  he  is  so  bold  as  to  follow  us 
in  the  streets,  and  to  attempt  to  put  us  to  shame  before  all 
men  ;  that  is,  to  make  us  ashamed  of  that  which  is  good. 
But  if  he  was  not  himself  audacious,  he  would  never 
attempt  to  do  as  he  does.  But  let  us  still  resist  him; 
for  notwithstanding  all  his  bravadoes,  he  promoted  the 
fool,  and  none  else.  The  wise  shall  inherit  glory,  said 
Solomon  ;  but  shame  shall  be  the  promotion  of  fools. 

Faith.  I  think  we  must  cry  to  Him  for  help  against 
Shame,  that  would  have  us  be  valiant  for  truth  upon  the 
earth. 

Chr.  You  say  true ;  but  did  you  meet  nobody  else  in 
that  valley  ? 

Faith.  No,  not  I ;  for  I  had  sunshine  all  the  rest  of 
the  way  through  that,  and  also  through  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death. 

Chr.  'Twas  well  for  you ;  I  am  sure  it  fared  far 
otherwise  with  me.  I  had  for  a  long  season,  as  soon 
almost  as  I  entered  into  that  valley,  a  dreadful  combat 
with  that  foul  fiend  Apollyon ;  yea,  I  thought  verily  he 
would  have  killed  me,  especially  when  he  got  me  down, 
and  crushed  me  under  him,  as  if  he  would  have  crushed 
me  to  pieces  j  for  as  he  threw  me,  my  sword  flew  out  of 

82 


TALKATIVE  AND  FAITHFUL 

my  hand ;  nay,  he  told  me  he  was  sure  of  me  ;  but  I  cried  \ 
to  God,  and  He  heard  me,  and  delivered  me  out  of  all  my     \ 
troubles.     Then  I  entered  into  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death,  and  had  no  light  for  almost  half  the  way  through 
it.     I  thought  I  should  have  been  killed  there  over  and 
over ;  but  at  last  day  broke,  and  the  sun  rose,  and  I  went; 
through  that  which  was  behind  with  far  more  ease  and 
quiet. 

Moreover  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  as  they  went  on, 
Faithful,  as  he  chanced  to  look  on  one  side,  saw  a  man 
whose  name  is  Talkative,  walking  at  a  distance  besides 
them ;  for  in  this  place  there  was  room  enough  for  them 
all  to  walk.      He  was  a  tall   man,   and     Talkative 
something  more  comely  at  a  distance  than     described 
at  hand.     To  this  man  Faithful  addressed  himself  in  this 
manner. 

Faith.  Friend,  whither  away  ?  Are  you  going  to  the 
heavenly  country  ? 

Talk.     I  am  going  to  the  same  place. 

Faith.  That  is  well  $  then  I  hope  we  shall  have  your 
good  company  ? 

Talk.     With  a  very  good  will  will  I  be  your  companion. 

Faith.     Come  on,  then,  and  let  us  go     _ 

.  .    ,  ,  *•?          r  aitnful  and 

together,  and  let  us  spend  our  time   in     Talkative  enter 
discoursing  of  things  that  are  profitable. 

Talk.  To  talk  of  things  that  are  good,  to  me  is  very 
acceptable,  with  you,  or  with  any  other ;  and  I  am  glad 
that  I  have  met  with  those  that  incline  to  so  good  a 
work;  for,  to  speak  the  truth,  there  are  Taikative's dislike 
but  few  who  care  thus  to  spend  their  time  '  of  bad  discourse 
as  they  are  in  their  travels,  but  choose  much  rather  to  be 
speaking  of  things  to  no  profit;  and  this  hath  been  a 
trouble  to  me. 

Faith.  That  is,  indeed,  a  thing  to  be  lamented ;  for 
what  thing  so  worthy  of  the  use  of  the  tongue  and  mouth 
of  men  on  earth,  as  are  the  things  of  the  God  of  heaven  ? 

Talk.  I  like  you  wonderful  well,  for  your  sayings  are 
full  of  conviction  ;  and  I  will  add,  What  thing  is  so  pleasant, 

83 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  what  so  profitable,  as  to  talk  of  the  things  of  God  ? 
What  things  so  pleasant  ?  that  is,  if  a  man  hath  any  de- 
light in  things  that  are  wonderful.  For  instance  :  if  a 
man  doth  delight  to  talk  of  the  history,  or  the  mystery  of 
things ;  or  if  a  man  doth  love  to  talk  of  miracles,  wonders, 
or  signs,  where  shall  he  find  things  recorded  so  delight- 
ful, and  so  sweetly  penned,  as  in  the  Holy  Scripture  ? 

Faith.  That  is  true ;  but  to  be  profited  by  such 
things  in  our  talk,  should  be  our  chief  design. 

Talk.  That  is  it  that  I  said ;  for  to  talk  of  such  things 
Taikatwj's  fine  *s  most  profitable  ;  for  by  so  doing,  a  man 
discourse  mav  get  knowledge  of  many  things;  as  of 

the  vanity  of  earthly  things,  and  the  benefit  of  things 
above.  Thus  in  general  5  but  more  particular,  by  this 
a  man  may  learn  the  necessity  of  the  new  birth,  the  in- 
sufficiency of  our  works,  the  need  of  Christ's  righteous- 
ness, etc.  Besides,  by  this  a  man  may  learn  what  it 
is  to  repent,  to  believe,  to  pray,  to  suffer,  or  the 
like :  by  this,  also,  a  man  may  learn  what  are  the  great 
promises  and  consolations  of  the  gospel,  to  his  own 
comfort.  Further,  by  this  a  man  may  learn  to  refuse 
false  opinions,  to  vindicate  the  truth,  and  also  to  instruct 
the  ignorant. 

Faith.  All  this  is  true ;  and  glad  am  I  to  hear  these 
things  from  you. 

Talk.  Alas  !  the  want  of  this  is  the  cause  that  so  few 
understand  the  need  of  faith,  and  the  necessity  of  a  work 
of  grace  in  their  soul,  in  order  to  eternal  life ;  but 
ignorantly  live  in  the  works  of  the  law,  by  which  a  man 
can  by  no  means  obtain  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Faith.  But,  by  your  leave,  heavenly  knowledge  of 
these  is  the  gift  of  God;  no  man  attaineth  to  them  by 
human  industry,  or  only  by  the  talk  of  them. 

Talk.  All  that  I  know  very  well,  for  a  man  can 
o  brave  Taika-  receive  nothing,  except  it  be  given  him 
tive  I  from  heaven ;  all  is  of  grace,  not  of 

works.  I  could  give  you  a  hundred  scriptures  for  the 
confirmation  of  this. 


TALKATIVE'S  CHARACTER 

Faith.  "Well,  then,  said  Faithful,  what  is  that  one 
thing  that  we  shall  at  this  time  found  our  discourse 
upon? 

Talk.     "What  you  will.     I  will  talk  of  things  heavenly, 
or  things  earthly  ;  things  moral,  or  things     p  brave  Taika- 
evangelical ;  things  sacred,  or  things  pro-     tivel 
fane  5  things  past,  or  things  to  come ;  things  foreign,  or 
things  at  home ;  things  more  essential,  or  things  circum- 
stantial ;  provided  that  all  be  done  to  our  profit. 

Faith.     Now    did    Faithful    begin    to    wonder ;    and 
stepping  to  Christian  (for  he  walked  all     Faithful  beguiled 
this  while  by  himself),  he  said    to  him,     by  Talkative 
but    softly,    What   a    brave    companion   have   we    got  ! 
Surely  this  man  will  make  a  very  excellent  pilgrim. 

Chr.  At  this  Christian  modestly  smiled,  and  said, 
This  man.  with  whom  you  are  so  taken, 

.,,   .  .,  .11.          J  n  •  Christian  makes  a 

will  beguile  with  this  tongue  or  his  twenty  discovery  of  Taik- 
of  them  that  know  him  not.  FaUhfufwh?  he 

Faith.     Do  you  know  him  then  ?  was 

Chr.    Know  him  ?    Yes,  better  than  he  knows  himself. 

Faith.     Pray  what  is  he  ? 

Chr.  His  name  is  Talkative  :  he  dwelleth  in  our  town. 
I  wonder  that  you  should  be  a  stranger  to  him ;  only  I 
consider  that  our  town  is  large. 

Faith.  Whose  son  is  he  ?  And  whereabout  doth  he 
dwell  ? 

Chr.  He  is  the  son  of  one  Say-well.  He  dwelt  in 
Prating  Row,  and  he  is  known  of  all  that  are  acquainted 
with  him  by  the  name  of  Talkative,  in  Prating  Row ; 
and,  notwithstanding  his  fine  tongue,  he  is  but  a  sorry 
fellow. 

Faith.    Well,  he  seems  to  be  a  very  pretty  man. 

Chr.  That  is,  to  them  that  have  not  thorough 
acquaintance  with  him,  for  he  is  best  abroad ;  near  home 
he  is  ugly  enough.  Your  saying  that  he  is  a  pretty  man, 
brings  to  my  mind  what  I  have  observed  in  the  work  of 
the  painter,  whose  pictures  show  best  at  a  distance,  but 
very  near  more  unpleasing. 

85 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Faith.  But  I  am  ready  to  think  you  do  but  jest, 
because  you  smiled. 

Chr.  God  forbid  that  I  should  jest  (though  I  smiled) 
in  this  matter,  or  that  I  should  accuse  any  falsely.  I  will 
give  you  a  further  discovery  of  him.  This  man  is  for  any 
company,  and  for  any  talk  ;  as  he  talketh  now  with  you, 
so  will  he  talk  when  he  is  on  the  ale-bench ;  and  the  more 
drink  he  hath  in  his  crown,  the  more  of  these  things  he 
hath  in  his  mouth.  Religion  hath  no  place  in  his  heart, 
or  house,  or  conversation  ;  all  he  hath  lieth  in  his  tongue, 
and  his  religion  is  to  make  a  noise  therewith. 

Faith.  Say  you  so  ?  Then  am  I  in  this  man  greatly 
deceived. 

Chr.  Deceived !  you  may  be  sure  of  it.  Remember 
Talkative  talks,  the  proverb,  They  say,  ^ and  do  not; 
but  does  not  fo^  ^e  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word, 

but  in  power.  He  talketh  of  prayer,  of  repentance, 
of  faith,  and  of  the  new  birth;  but  he  knows  but 
only  to  talk  of  them.  I  have  been  in  his  family, 
and  have  observed  him  both  at  home  and  abroad ; 
His  house  is  empty  and  I  know  what  I  say  of  him  is  the 
of  religion  truth.  His  house  is  as  empty  of  religion, 

as  the  white  of  an  egg  is  of  savour.  There  is  there 
neither  prayer,  nor  sign  of  repentance  for  sin ;  yea,  the 
He  is  a  stain  to  brute,  in  his  kind,  serves  God  far  better 
religion  than  he.  He  is  the  very  stain,  re- 

proach, and  shame  of  religion  to  all  that  know  him, 
it  can  hardly  have  a  good  word  in  all  that  end  of  "the 
town  where  he  dwells,  through  him.  Thus  say  the 
The  proverb  that  common  people  that  know  him,  A  saint 
goes  of  him  abroad,  and  a  devil  at  home.  His  poor 

family  finds  it  so ;  he  is  such  a  churl,  such  a  railer  at,  and 
so  unreasonable  with,  his  servants,  that  they  neither  know 
how  to  do  for  nor  speak  to  him.  Men  that  have  any 
Men  shun  to  deal  dealings  with  him  say,  It's  better  to  deal 
with  him  wjth  a  Turk  than  with  him,  for  fairer 

dealing  they  shall  have  at  their  hands.  This  Talkative 
Of  it  be  possible)  will  go  beyond  them,  defraud,  beguile, 

86 


TALKATIVE 

What  vou  will  1  will  talk  of  things  heavenly,  or  things  earthly; 
things  moral,  or  things  evangelical." 


TALKATIVE'S  CHARACTER 

and  overreach  them.  Besides,  he  brings  up  his  sons  to 
follow  his  steps  ;  and  if  he  finds  in  any  of  them  a  foolish 
timorousness  (for  so  he  calls  the  first  appearance  of  a 
tender  conscience),  he  calls  them  fools  and  blockheads, 
and  by  no  means  will  employ  them  in  much,  or  speak  to 
their  commendation  before  others.  For  my  part,  I  am  of 
opinion,  that  he  has,  by  his  wicked  life,  caused  many  to 
stumble  and  fall ;  and  will  be,  if  God  prevents  not,  the 
ruin  of  many  more. 

Faith.  Well,  my  brother,  I  am  bound  to  believe  you, 
not  only  because  you  say  you  know  him,  but  also  because, 
like  a  Christian,  you  make  your  reports  of  men.  For  I 
cannot  think  that  you  speak  these  things  of  ill-will,  but 
because  it  is  even  so  as  you  say. 

Chr.  Had  I  known  him  no  more  than  you,  I  might, 
perhaps,  have  thought  of  him  as  at  the  first  you  did ;  yea, 
had  I  received  this  report  at  their  hands  only,  that  are 
enemies  to  religion,  I  should  have  thought  it  had  been  a 
slander, — a  lot  that  often  falls  from  bad  men's  mouths  upon 
good  men's  names  and  professions.  But  all  these  things, 
yea,  and  a  great  many  more  as  bad,  of  my  own  knowledge, 
I  can  prove  him  guilty  of.  Besides,  good  men  are  ashamed 
of  him ;  they  can  neither  call  him  brother  nor  friend ;  the 
very  naming  of  him  among  them  makes  them  blush,  if  they 
know  him. 

Faith.  Well,  I  see  that  saying  and  doing  are  two  1 
things,  and  hereafter  I  shall  better  observe  this  dis-  4 
tinction. 

Chr.     They  are  two  things  indeed,  and  are  as  diverse 
as  are  the  soul  and  the  body ;  for  as  the  body  without  the 
soul  is  but  a  dead  carcase,  so  saying,  if  it     The  carcase  of 
be  alone,  is  but  a  dead  carcase  also.     The     religion 
soul  of  religion  is  the  practical  part.     Pure  religion  and 
undefiled  before  God  and  the  Father  is  this,  to  visit  the 
fatherless  and  widows  in  their  affliction,  and  to  keep  himself 
unspotted  from  the  world.   This  Talkative  is  not  aware  of; 
he  thinks  that  hearing  and  saying  will  make  a  good  Christian; 
and  thus  he  deceiveth  his  own  soul.    Hearing  is  but  as  the 

8? 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

/  sowing  of  the  seed ;  talking  is  not  sufficient  to  prove  that 

/    fruit  is  indeed  in  the  heart  and  life.     And  let  us  assure 

;      ourselves,  that  at  the  day  of  doom,  men  shall  be  judged 

according  to  their  fruit.      It  will  not  be  said  then,  Did 

you    believe  ?    but,    Were    you    doers,  or   talkers    only  ? 

\     and  accordingly  shall  they  be  judged.     The  end  of  the 

world  is  compared  to  our  harvest,  and   you  know  men 

at  harvest  regard  nothing  but  fruit.     Not  that  any  thing 

/     can  be  accepted  that  is  not  of  faith ;  but  I  speak  this  to 

show  you   how  insignificant  the  profession  of  Talkative 

will  be  at  that  day. 

Faith.  This  brings  to  my  mind  that  of  Moses,  by 
which  he  describeth  the  beast  that  is  clean.  He  is 
such  an  one  that  parteth  the  hoof,  and  cheweth  the 
cud ;  not  that  parteth  the  hoof  only,  or  that  cheweth 
the  cud  only.  The  hare  cheweth  the  cud,  but  yet  is 
unclean,  because  he  parteth  not  the  hoof.  And  this 
Faithful  con-  truly  resembleth  Talkative  :  he  cheweth 

vinced  of  the  bad-  the  cud,  he  seeketh  knowledge ;  he  cheweth 
upon  the  word,  but  he  divideth  not  the 
hoof.  He  parteth  not  with  the  way  of  sinners  ;  but,  as  the 
hare,  he  retaineth  the  foot  of  a  dog  or  bear,  and  therefore 
is  unclean. 

Chr.  You  have  spoken,  for  aught  I  know,  the  rrue 
gospel  sense  of  those  texts.  And  I  will  add  another 

Talkative  like  two       thlng  :     Paul    Calleth    SOme    mell>    J**>    ™d 

things  that  sound  those  great  talkers  too,  sounding  brass, 
and  tinkling  cymbals,  that  is,  as  he 
expounds  them  in  another  place,  things  without  life, 
giving  sound.  Things  without  life ;  that  is,  without 
the  true  faith  and  grace  of  the  gospel ;  and,  consequently, 
things  that  shall  never  be  placed  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  among  those  that  are  the  children  of  life,  though 
their  sound,  by  their  talk,  be  as  if  it  were  the  tongue  or 
voice  of  an  angel. 

Faith.  Well,  I  was  not  so  fond  of  his  company  at 
first,  but  I  am  as  sick  of  it  now.  What  shall  we  do  to  be 
rid  of  him  ? 

88 


v 


FAITHFUL  AND  TALKATIVE 

Chr.  Take  my  advice,  and  do  as  I  bid  you,  and  you 
shall  find  that  he  will  soon  be  sick  of  your  company  too, 
except  God  shall  touch  his  heart,  and  turn  it. 

Faith.     What  would  you  have  me  to  do  ? 

Chr.  Why,  go  to  him,  and  enter  into  some  serious 
discourse  about  the  power  of  religion,  and  ask  him 
plainly  (when  he  has  approved  of  it,  for  that  he  will), 
whether  this  thing  be  set  up  in  his  heart,  house,  or 
conversation. 

^aith.  Then  Faithful  stepped  forward  again,  and  said 
to  Talkative,  Come,  what  cheer  ?  How  is  it  now  ? 

Talk.  Thank  you,  well :  I  thought  we  should  have 
had  a  great  deal  of  talk  by  this  time. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  will,  we  will  fall  to  it  now  ;  and 
since  you  left  it  with  me  to  state  the  question,  let  it  be 
this :  How  doth  the  saving  grace  of  God  discover  itself, 
when  it  is  in  the  heart  of  man  ? 

Talk.     I  perceive,  then,  that  our  talk  must  be  about 
the   power  of  things.     Well,  'tis  a  very     Talkative,s  false 
good  question,  and  I  shall  be  willing  to     discovery  of  a 

e     .          work  of  grace 

answer   you.      And    take   my   answer   m 
brief,  thus.      First,  where   the  grace  of  God  is  in  the 
heart,    it    causeth    there    a    great    outcry    against    sin. 
Secondly 

Faith.  Nay,  hold,  let  us  consider  of  one  at  once.  I 
think  you  should  rather  say,  It  shows  itself  by  inclining 
the  soul  to  abhor  its  sin. 

Talk.  Why,  what  difference  is  there  between  crying 
out  against,  and  abhorring  of  sin  ? 

Faith.     Oh  !  a  great  deal.    A  man  may  cry  out  against 
sin,  of  policy  ;  but  he  cannot  abhor  ^ it  but     The  cryin      t 
by  virtue  of  a  godly  antipathy  against  it.     against  sin  no 

T  i  i  .  sign  of  grace 

1  nave  heard  many  cry  out  against  sin  m 
the  pulpit,  who  can  yet  abide  it  well  enough  in  the  heart, 
house,  and  conversation.  Joseph's  mistress  cried  out  with 
a  loud  voice,  as  if  she  had  been  very  holy  ;  but  she  would 
willingly,  notwithstanding  that,  have  committed  unclean- 
ness  with  him.  Some  cry  out  against  sin,  even  as  the 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

mother  cries  out  against  her  child  in  her  lap,  when  she 
calleth  it  slut  and  naughty  girl,  and  then  falls  to  hugging 
and  kissing  it. 

Talk.     You  lie  at  the  catch,  I  perceive. 

Faith.  No,  not  I ;  am  only  for  setting  things  right. 
But  what  is  the  second  thing  whereby  you  would  prove  a 
discovery  of  a  work  of  grace  in  the  heart  ? 

Talk.     Great  knowledge  of  gospel  mysteries. 

Faith.  This  sign  should  have  been  first;  but  first  or 
Great  knowledge)  ^ast>  ^  'IS  ^so  false  ;(for  knowledge,  great 
no  sign  of  grace  /  knowledge,  may  be  obtained  in  the  mys- 
teries of  the  gospel,  and  yet  no  work  of  grace  in 
the  soul.  Yea,  if  a  man  have  all  knowledge,  he 
may  yet  be  nothing,  and  so,  consequently,  be  no  child 
of  God.  When  Christ  said,  Do  you  know  all  these 
things  ?  and  the  disciples  had  answered,  Yes,  He 
added,  Blessed  are  ye  if  ye  do  them.  He  doth  not 
lay  the  blessing  in  the  knowing  of  them,  but  in  the 
Knowledge  and  doing  of  them.  For  there  is  a  know- 
knowledge  ledge  that  is  not  attended  with  doing :  ' 
He  that  knoweth  his  Master's  will,  and  doeth  it  not. 
A  man  may  know  like  an  angel,  and  yet  be  no 
Christian;  therefore  your  sign  of  it  is  not  true.  In- 
deed, to  know,  is  a  thing  that  pleaseth  talkers  and 
boasters ;  but  to  do,  is  that  which  pleaseth  God.  Not 
that  the  heart  can  be  good  without  knowledge,  for 
without  that  the  heart  is  naught.  There  is,  therefore, 
knowledge  and  knowledge; — knowledge  that  resteth  in 
the  bare  speculation  of  things,  and  knowledge  that  is 
True  knowledge  accompanied  with  the  grace  of  faith  and 
attended  with  love,  which  puts  a  man  upon  doing  even 
the  will  of  God  from  the  heart :  the  first 
of  these  will  serve  the  talker ;  but  without  the  other  the 
true  Christian  is  not  content.  Give  me  understanding, 
and  I  shall  keep  Thy  law ;  yea,  I  shall  observe  it  with  my 
whole  heartj 

Talk.  You  lie  at  the  catch  again;  this  is  not  for 
edification. 

90 


FAITHFUL  AND  TALKATIVE 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  please,  propound  another  sign 
how  this  work  of  grace  discovereth  itself  where  it  is. 

Talk.     Not  I,  for  I  see  we  shall  not  agree. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  will  not,  will  you  give  me  leave 
to  do  it  ? 

Talk.     You  may  use  your  liberty. 

Faith.  A  work  of  grace  in  the  soul  discovereth  itself, 
either  to  him  that  hath  it,  or  to  standers  by. 

To  him  that  hath  it,  thus :  It  gives  him  conviction  of 
sin,  especially  of  the  defilement  of  his  one  good  si*n  of 
nature,  and  the  sin  of  unbelief,  for  the  *race 
sake  of  which  he  is  sure  to  be  damned,  if  he  findeth 
not  mercy  at  God's  hand  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ. 
This  sight  and  sense  of  things  worketh  in  him  sorrow 
and  shame  for  sin.  He  findeth,  moreover,  revealed 
in  him  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  and  the  absolute 
necessity  of  closing  with  Him  for  life  ;  at  the  which 
he  findeth  hungerings  and  thirstings  after  Him ;  to 
which  hungerings,  etc.,  the  promise  is  made.  Now, 
according  to  the  strength  or  weakness  of  his  faith  in 
his  Saviour,  so  is  his  joy  and  peace,  so  is  his  love  to 
holiness,  so  are  his  desires  to  know  Him  more,  and  also 
to  serve  Him  in  this  world.  But  though,  I  say,  it  dis- 
covereth itself  thus  unto  him,  yet  it  is  but  seldom  that 
he  is  able  to  conclude  that  this*  is  a  work  of  grace; 
because  his  corruptions  now,  and  his  abused  reason, 
make  his  mind  to  misjudge  in  this  matter;  therefore  in 
him  that  hath  this  work  there  is  required  a  very  sound 
judgment,  before  he  can  with  steadiness  conclude  that 
this  is  a  work  of  grace. 

To  others  it  is  thus  discovered : 

I.  By  an  experimental  confession  of  his  faith  in  Christ. 
2.  By  a  life  answerable  to  that  confession :  to  wit,  a  life 
of  holiness ;  heart-holiness,  family-holiness  (if  he  hath 
a  family),  and  by  conversation-holiness  in  the  world ; 
which  in  the  general  teacheth  him  inwardly  to  abhor  his 
sin,  and  himself  for  that,  in  secret ;  to  suppress  it  in  his 

91 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

family,  and  to  promote  holiness  in  the  world ;  not  by  talk 
only,  as  a  hypocrite  or  talkative  person  may  do,  but  by  a 
practical  subjection  in  faith  and  love  to  the  power  of  the 
word.  And  now,  sir,  as  to  this  brief  description  of  the 
work  of  grace,  and  also  the  discovery  of  it,  if  you 
have  aught  to  object,  object ;  if  not,  then  give  me  leave 
to  propound  to  you  a  second  question. 

Talk.  Nay,  my  part  is  not  now  to  object,  but  to  hear ; 
let  me,  therefore,  have  your  second  question. 

Faith.  It  is  this  :  Do  you  experience  this  first  part  ot 
this  description  of  it  ?  And  doth  your  life  and  conversa- 
Another  good  sign  ^on  testify  the  same?  or  standeth  your 
of  grace  religion  in  word  or  in  tongue,  and  not 

in  deed  and  truth  ?  Pray,  if  you  incline  to  answer  me 
in  this,  say  no  more  than  you  know  the  God  above 
will  say  Amen  to,  and  also  nothing  but  what  your 
conscience  can  justify  you  in ;  for  not  he  that  com- 
mendeth  himself  is  approved,  but  whom  the  Lord  com- 
mendeth.  Besides,  to  say,  I  am  thus  and  thus,  when  my 
conversation,  and  all  my  neighbours,  tell  me  I  lie,  is  great 
wickedness. 

Then  Talkative  at  first  began  to  blush  ;  but,  recovering 
himself,  thus  he  replied  :  You  come  now  to  experience,  to 
conscience,  and  God ;  and  to  appeal  to  Him  for  justification 
of  what  is  spoken.  This  kind  of  discourse 
piea^edwiEh*  I . did  not  expect  5  nor  am  I  disposed  to 

Faithful's  give  an  answer  to  such  questions,  because 

question  °  i  r  i  i      i  i 

1  count  not  myselr  bound  thereto,  unless 

you  take  upon  you  to  be  a  catechiser  j  and  though  you 

should  so  do,  yet  I  may  refuse  to  make  you  my  judge.    But 

I  pray,  will  you  tell  me  why  you  ask  me  such  questions  ? 

Faith.     Because  I  saw  you  forward  to  talk,  and  because 

I  knew  not  that  you  had  aught  else  but 

The  reasons  why  .  _      .  .         J  , ,  °, ,     ,  , 

Faithful  put  to          notion.     Besides,  to  tell  you  all  the  truth, 

I  have  heard  of  you  that  you  are  a  man 

•  whose  religion  lies   in   talk,   and   that  your  conversation 

gives  this  your  mouth  profession  the  lie.     They  say  you 

are  a  spot  among  Christians,  and  that  religion  fareth  the 

92 


A  GOOD  RIDDANCE 

worse  for  your  ungodly  conversation ;  that  some  already 
have    stumbled    at     your    wicked    ways, 

,      ,  /         ,  r    i     •  Faithful's  plain 

and  that   more   are   m   danger   of  being     dealing  to 
destroyed  thereby ;  your  religion,  and  an     T*11^1*6 
ale-house,  and  covetousness,  and  uncleanness,  and  swear- 
ing, and  lying,  and  vain  company-keeping,  etc.,  will  stand 
together.     The  proverb  is  true  of  you  which  is  said  of  a 
whore,  to  wit,  That  she  is  a  shame  to  all  women.     So 
you  are  a  shame  to  all  professors. 

Talk.  Since  you  are  ready  to  take  up  reports,  and  to  judge 
so  rashly  as  you  do,  I  cannot  but  conclude  _  , 

J  :  ,  tit  Talkative  flings 

you  are  some  peevish  or  melancholy  man,     away  from 
not  fit  to  be  discoursed  with  ;  and  so,  adieu.     Faithful 

Then  came  up  Christian,  and  said  to  his  brother,  I  told 
you  how  it  would  happen ;  your  words  and  his  lusts  could 
not  agree.    He  had  rather  leave  your  company  than  reform 
his  life.    But  he  is  gone,  as  I  said :  let  him 
go ;  the  loss  is  no  man's  but  his  own ;  he 
has  saved  us  the  trouble  of  going  from  him ;  for  he  con- 
tinuing (as  I  suppose  he  will  do)  as  he  is,  he  would  have 
been  but  a  blot  in  our  company.      Besides,   the  apostle 
says,  From  such  withdraw  thyself. 

Faith.  But  I  am  glad  we  had  this  little  discourse 
with  him  •,  it  may  happen  that  he  will  think  of  it  again  : 
however,  I  have  dealt  plainly  with  him,  and  so  am  clear  of 
his  blood,  if  he  perisheth. 

Chr.  You  did  well  to  talk  so  plainly  to  him  as  yon 
did.  There  is  but  little  of  this  faithful  dealing  with  men 
now-a-days,and  that  makes  religion  to  stink  so  in  the  nostrils 
of  many  as  it  doth  :  for  they  are  these  talkative  fools, 
whose  religion  is  only  in  word,  and  are  debauched  and 
vain  in  their  conversation,  that  (being  so  much  admitted 
into  the  fellowship  of  the  godly)  do  puzzle  the  world, 
blemish  Christianity,  and  grieve  the  sincere.  I  wish  that 
all  men  would  deal  with  such  as  you  have  done ;  then 
should  they  either  be  made  more  conformable  to  religion, 
or  the  company  of  saints  would  be  too  hot  for  them. 
Then  did  Faithful  say, 

93 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

How  Talkative  at  first  lifts  up  his  plumes! 
How  bravely  doth  he  speak  !     How  he  presumes 
To  drive  down  all  before  him !     But  so  soon 
As  Faithful  talks  of  heart-work,  like  the  moon 
That's  past  the  full,  into  the  wane  he  goes  ; 
And  so  will  all  but  he  that  heart-work  knows. 

Thus  they  went  on,  talking  of  what  they  had  seen  by 
the  way,  and  so  made  that  way  easy,  which  would  other- 
wise no  doubt  have  been  tedious  to  them,  for  now  they 
went  through  a  wilderness. 

Now  when  they  were  got  almost  quite  out  of  this 
wilderness,  Faithful  chanced  to  cast  his  eye  back,  and 
espied  one  coming  after  them,  and  he  knew  him.  Oh  ! 
said  Faithful  to  his  brother,  who  comes  yonder  ?  Then 
Christian  looked,  and  said,  It  is  my  good  friend  Evangelist. 
Ay,  and  my  good  friend  too,  said  Faithful,  for  'twas  he 
Evangelist  over-  that  set  me  the  way  to  the  gate.  Now 
takes  them  again  was  Evangelist  come  up  unto  them,  and 
thus  saluted  them. 

Evan.  Peace  be  to  you,  dearly  beloved,  and  peace  be 
to  your  helpers. 

Chr.  Welcome,  welcome,  my  good  Evangelist,  the 
They  are  glad  at  sight  of  thy  countenance  brings  to  my 
the  sight  of  him  remembrance  thy  ancient  kindness  and 
unwearied  labouring  for  my  eternal  good. 

Faith.  And  a  thousand  times  welcome,  said  good 
Faithful,  thy  company,  O  sweet  Evangelist ;  how  desirable 
is  it  to  us  poor  pilgrims  ! 

Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist,  How  hath  it  fared  with 
you,  my  friends,  since  the  time  of  our  last  parting  ?  What 
have  you  met  with,  and  how  have  you  behaved  yourselves  ? 

Then  Christian  and  Faithful  told  him  of  all  things  that 
had  happened  to  them  in  the  way ;  and  how,  and  with 
what  difficulty,  they  had  arrived  to  that  place. 

Right  glad  am  I,  said  Evangelist,  not  that  you  have  met 
His  exhortation  with  trials,  but  that  you  have  been  victors, 
to  them  ancj  for  that  you  have,  notwithstanding 

many  weaknesses,  continued  in  the  way  to  this  very  day. 

I  say,  right  glad  am  I  of  this  thing,  and  that  for  mine 

94 


EVANGELIST'S  EXHORTATIONS 

own  sake  and  yours  ;  I  have  sowed,  and  you  have  reaped-, 
and  the  day  is  coming,  when  both  he  that  soweth,  and 
they  that  reap,  shall  rejoice  together;  that  is,  if  you 
hold  out;  for  in  due  time  ye  shall  reap,  if  ye  faint 
not.  The  crown  is  before  you,  and  it  is  an  incorruptible 
one;  so  run  that  you  may  obtain  it.  Some  there  be 
that  set  out  for  this  crown,  and  after  they  have  gone 
far  for  it,  another  comes  in  and  takes  it  from  them  : 
hold  fast,  therefore,  that  you  have  ;  let  no  man  take 
your  crown.  You  are  not  yet  out  of  the  gun-shot 
of  the  devil;  you  have  not  yet  resisted  unto  blood, 
striving  against  sin.  Let  the  kingdom  be  always  before 
you,  and  believe  stedfastly  concerning  things  that  are 
invisible.  Let  nothing  that  is  on  this  side  the  other 
world  get  within  you.  And,  above  all,  look  well  to 
your  own  hearts  and  to  the  lusts  thereof;  for  they  are 
deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately  wicked.  S<?t 
your  faces  like  a  flint  ;  you  have  all  power  in  heaven  and 
earth  on  your  side. 

Chr.     Then  Christian  thanked  him  for  his  exhortation  ; 
but  told  him  withal,  that  they  would  have 

,,        ,  2.  They  do  thank 

him  speak  further  to  them  for  their  help     him  for  his 
the  rest  of  the  way  ;  and  the  rather,  for 
that  they  well  knew  that  he  was  a  prophet,  and  could  tell 
them  of  things  that  might  happen  unto  them,  and  also  how 
they  might  resist  and  overcome  them.     To  which  request 
Faithful  also  consented.    So  Evangelist  began  as  followeth. 
Evan.     My  sons,  you  have  heard  in  the  words  of  the 
truth  of  the  gospel,  that  you  must  through 
many  tribulations  enter  into  the  kingdom 


of  heaven:  and  again,  that  in  every  city,     they  shall  meet 

'         J  \       with  in  Vanity 

bonds  and  afflictions  abide  on  you;   and     Fair,  and 


therefore  you  cannot  expect  that  you  should 
go  long  on  your  pilgrimage  without  them, 
in  some  sort  or  other.  Yqrthave  found  something  of  the 
truth  of  these  testimonies  u^^you  already,  and  more  will 
immediately  follow;  for  now,  as  you  see,  you  are  almost 
out  of  this  wilderness,  and  therefore  you  will  soon  come 

95 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

into  a  town  that  you  will  by  and  by  see  before  you ;  and 
in  that  town  you  will  be  hardly  beset  with  enemies,  who 
will  strain  hard  but  they  will  kill  you ;  and  be  you  sure 
that  one  or  both  of  you  must  seal  the  testimony  which  you 
hold  with  blood ;  [but  be  you  faithful  unto  death,  and 
He  whose  lot  it  £e  King  ™11  give  you  a  crown  of  life.) 
will  be  there  to  Me  that  shall  die  there,  although  his  death 
thfbetterofIS  will  be  unnatural,  and  his  pain,  perhaps, 
brother  great,  he  will  yet  have  the  better  of  his 

fellow  ;  not  only  because  he  will  be  arrived  at  the  Celestial 
City  soonest,  but  because  he  will  escape  many  miseries 
that  the  other  will  meet  with  in  the  rest  of  his  journey. 
But  when  you  are  come  to  the  town,  and  shall  find 
fulfilled  what  I  have  here  related,  then  remember  your 
friend,  and  quit  yourselves  like  men,  and  commit  the 
keeping  of  your  souls  to  God  in  well-doing,  as  unto  a 
faithful  Creator. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  when  they  were  got  out 
of  the  wilderness,  they  presently  saw  a  town  before  them, 
and  the  name  of  that  town  is  Vanity  ;  and  at  the  town 
there  is  a  fair  kept,  called  Vanity  Fair.  It  is  kept  all 
the  year  long.  """It  beareth  the  name  of  Vanity  Fair, 
because  the  town  where  it  is  kept,  is  lighter  than  vanity ; 
and  also,  because  all  that  is  there  sold,  or  that  cometh 
thither,  is  vanity,  as  is  the  saying  of  the  wise,  All  that 
cometh  is  vanity. 

This  fair  is  no  new-erected  business,  but  a  thing  of 
The  antiquity  of  ancient  standing.  I  will  show  you  the 
this  fair  original  of  it. 

Almost  five  thousand  years  agone,  there  were  pilgrims 
walking  to  the  Celestial  City,  as  these  two  honest  persons 
are ;  and  Beelzebub,  Apolljoji,  and  Legion,  with  their 
companions,  perceiving  by  the  path  that  the  pilgrims  made, 
that  their  way  to  the  city  lay  through  this  town  of  Vanity, 
they  contrived  here  to  set  up  a  fair ;  a  fair  wherein  should 
The  merchandise  be  sold  a11  sorts  of  vanity,  and  that  it 
of  this  fair  should  last  all  the  year  long.  Therefore 

at  this  fair  are  all  such  merchandise  sold  as  houses,  lands, 

jto  96 


VANITY  FAIR 

trades,  places,  honours,  preferments,  titles,  countries, 
kingdoms,  lusts,  pleasures ;  and  delights  of  all  sorts,  as 
whores,  bawds,  wives,  husbands,  children,  masters, 
servants,  lives,  blood,  bodies,  souls,  silver,  gold,  pearls, 
precious  stones,  and  what  not. 

And  moreover,  at  this  fair  there  is  at  all  times  to  be 
seen  jugglings,  cheats,  games,  plays,  fools,  apes,  knaves 
and  rogues,  and  that  of  every  kind. 

.  Here  are  to  be  seen,  too,  and  that  for  nothing,  thefts, 
murders,  adulteries,  false  swearers,  and  that  of  a  blood- 
red  colour. 

And  as,  in  other  fairs  of  less  moment,  there  are  the 
several  rows  and  streets  under  their  proper  names,  where 
such  and  such  wares  are  vended ;  so  here  likewise  you 
have  the  proper  places,  rows,  streets  (namely,  countries 
and  kingdoms),  where  the  wares  of  this  fair  are  soonest 
to  be  found.  Here  is  the  Britain  Row,  The  streets  of 
the  French  Row,  the  Italian  Row,  the  this  fan- 
Spanish  Row,  the  German  Row,  where  several  sorts  of 
vanities  are  to  be  sold.  But  as  in  other  fairs  some  one 
commodity  is  as  the  chief  of  all  the  fair,  so  the  ware  of 
Rome  and  her  merchandise  is  greatly  promoted  in  this 
fair ;  only  our  English  nation,  with  some  others,  have 
taken  a  dislike  thereat. 

Now,  as  I  said,  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City,  lies 
just  through  this  town  where  this  lusty  fair  is  kept; 
and  he  that  will  go  to  the  city,  and  yet  not  go 
through  this  town,  must  needs  go  out  of  the  world. 
The  Prince  of  princes  Himself,  when  here,  Christ  went 
went  through  this  town  to  His  own  through  this  fair 
country,  and  that  upon  a  fair-day  too ;  yea,  and,  as  I 
think,  it  was  Beelzebub,  the  chief  lord  of  this  fair,  that 
invited  Him  to  buy  of  his  vanities,  yea,  would  have  made 
Him  lord  of  the  fair,  would  He  but  have  done  him 
reverence  as  He  went  through  the  town.  Yea,  because 
He  was  such  a  person  of  honour,  Beelzebub  had  Him 
from  street  to  street,  and  showed  Him  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  in  a  little  time,  that  he  might,  if  possible, 

97  G 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

allure  that  Blessed  One  to  cheapen  and  buy  some  of 
Christ  bought  no-  his  vanities  ;  but  He  had  no  mind  to  the 
thing  in  this  fair  merchandise,  and,  therefore,  left  the  town 
without  laying  out  so  much  as  one  farthing  upon  these 
vanities.  This  fair,  therefore,  is  an  ancient  thing  of  long 
standing,  and  a  very  great  fair. 

Now  these  pilgrims,  as  I  said,  must  needs  go  through 
The  pilgrims  enter  this  fair.  Well,  so  they  did;  but, 
thefair  behold,  even  as  they  entered  into  the 

fair,  all  the  people  in  the  fair  were  moved,  and  the 
The  fair  in  a  hub-  town  itself,  as  it  were,  in  a  hubbub  about 
bub  about  them  them,  and  that  for  several  reasons  :  For, 

First,  The  pilgrims  were  clothed  with  such  kind  of 
The  first  cause  of  raiment  as  was  diverse  from  the  raiment 
the  hubbub  Of  anv  tnat  traded  in  that  fair.  The 

people,  therefore,  of  the  fair  made  a  great  gazing  upon 
them ;  some  said  they  were  fools  ;  some  they  were 
bedlams ;  and  some  they  are  outlandish  men. 

Secondly,  And  as  they  wondered  at  their  apparel, 
The  second  cause  so  they  did  likewise  at  their  speech ;  for 
of  the  hubbub  few  cou\&  understand  what  they  said. 

They  naturally  spoke  the  language  of  Canaan ;  but  they 
that  kept  the  fair  were  the  men  of  this  world.  So  that 
from  one  end  of  the  fair  to  the  other,  they  seemed 
barbarians  each  to  the  other. 

Thirdly,  But  that  which  did  not  a  little  amuse  the 
Third  cause  of  the  merchandizers  was,  that  these  pilgrims  set 
hubbub  verv  light  by  all  their  wares.  They  cared 

not  so  much  as  to  look  upon  them ;  "and"  if  they  called 
upon  them  to  buy,  they  would  put  their  fingers  in  their 
ears,  and  cry,  Turn  away  mine  eyes  from  beholding 
vanity,  and  look  upwards,  signifying  that  their  trade  and 
traffic  was  in  heaven. 

One  chanced  mockingly,  beholding  the  carriage  of  the 
Fourth  cause  of  men,  to  say  unto  them,  What  will  ye 
the  hubbub  buy?  But  they,  looking  gravely  upon 

him,  said,  We  buy  the  truth.  At  that,  there  was  an 
occasion  taken  to  despise  the  men  the  more;  some 


VANITY    FAIR 

As  they  entered  into  the  fair,  all  the  people  in  the  fair  were  moved, 
and  the  town  itself,  as  it  were,  in  a  hubbub  about  them. 


THE  PILGRIMS  IN  THE  CAGE 


mocking,    some   taunting,    some   speaking   reproachfully, 
and   some    calling   upon   others  to  smite 

A        ,          °|_ .    r  ,1       They  are  mocked. 

them.     At   last   things   came   to   a   hub-  The  fair  in  a 

bub,  and  great  stir  in  the  fair,  insomuch  hubbub 

that  all  order  was  confounded.     Now  was  word  presently 

brought  to  the  great  one  of  the  fair,  who  quickly  came 

down,  and  deputed  some  of  his  most  trusty  friends  to  take 

those  men  into  examination,  about  whom     They  are  ex- 

the  fair  was  almost  overturned.     So  the     amined 

men  were  brought  to  examination ;  and  they  that  sat  upon 

them  asked  whence  they  came,  whither  they  went,  and 

what    they  did  there  in  such  an  unusual 

rr»/  ill  i  They  tell  who  they 

garb.     The  men  told  them  that  they  were     are,  and  whence 
pilgrims  and  strangers  in  the  world,  and      keycame 
that  they  were  going  to  their  own  country,  which  was 
the    heavenly    Jerusalem,     and     that     they    had     given 
no   occasion   to   the   men  of  the  town,    nor   yet   to   the 
merchandizers,  thus  to  abuse  them,  and   to  let   them  in 
their  journey,   except  it  was   for  that,  when  one  asked 
them  what  they  would  buy,  they  said  they  would  buy  the 
truth.     But  they  that  were   appointed  to  examine   them, 
did  not  believe  them  to  be  any  other  than     They  are  not 
bedlams  and  mad,  or  else  such  as  came  to     believed 

I  put  all   things  into  a  confusion  in  the  fair.     Therefore 
they  took  them  and  beat  them,  and  besmeared  them  with 
dirt,  and    then    put   them  into    the  cage,     They  are  put  in 
that  they  might  be  made  a  spectacle  to  all     the  ca&e 
the  men  of  the  fair.     There,  therefore,  they  lay  for  some 
time,  and  were  made  the  objects  of  any  man's  sport,  or 
malice,  or  revenge  j    the  great  one  of  the  fair   laughing 
still  at  all  that  befell  them.     But  the  men     Their  behaviour 
being   patient,   and  not  rendering  railing     in  tne  ca^e 
for  railing,  but  contrariwise  blessing,  and    giving    good 
words  for  bad,  and  kindness  for  injuries  done,  some  men  in 
the  fair,   that  were  more  observing  and  less  prejudiced 
than  the  rest,  began  to  check  and  blame  the  baser  sort  for 
their  continual  abuses  done  by  them  to  the  men.     They, 
therefore,  in  angry  manner  let  fly  at  them  again,  counting 

99 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

them  as  bad  as  the  men  in  the  cage,  and   telling  them 

that  they  seemed  confederates,  and  should 

Lhfa™out°Imonfglr    be   made  partakers  of  their  misfortunes. 

thlwstewoemen°ut      The  otners  replied,  that,  for  aught  they 

could  see,  the  men  were  quiet  and  sober, 

and  intended  nobody  any  harm  ;  and  that  there  were  many 

that  traded  in  their  fair,  that  were  more  worthy  to  be  put 

into  the  cage,  yea,  and  pillory  too,  than  were  the  men  that 

they  had  abused.    Thus,  after  divers  words  had  passed  on 

both  sides  (the  men  behaving   themselves  all  the  while 

very  wisely  and  soberly  before  them),  they  fell  to  some 

blows,    and    did    harm    one    to   another. 

They  are  made  the       ._,.  . 

authors  of  this  dis-     Then  were  these  two  poor  men  brought 

before  their  examiners  again,  and  there 
charged  as  being  guilty  of  the  late  hubbub  that  had  been 

in  the  fair.     So  they  beat  them  pitifully 
Ind^do^n  th*&3r     and  hanged  irons  upon  them,  and  led  them 
terror'to  others         *n  cnams  UP  an<^  down  the  fair,  for  an 

example  and  terror  to  others,  lest  any 
should  speak  in  their  behalf,  or  join  themselves  unto  them. 
But  Christian  and  Faithful  behaved  themselves  yet  more 
wisely,  and  received  the  ignominy  and  shame  that  was 
cast  upon  them,  with  so  much  meekness  and  patience,  that 

it  won  to  their  side  (though  but  few  in  com- 

Some  of  the  men  .  r     ,  \  i       r     i 

of  the  fair  won  to      parison  or  the  rest)  several  or  the  men  in 

the  fair.    This  put  the  other  party  yet  into 

a  greater  rage,  insomuch  that  they  concluded  the  death  of 

these  two  men.  Wherefore  they  threatened, 

Soive^kS*™       that  the  cage  nor  irons  should  serve  their 

them  turn,  but  that  they  should  die  for  the  abuse 

they  had  done,  and  for  deluding  the  men  of  the  fair. 

Then  were  they  remanded  to  the  cage 
Jutcm?o  the^cige,  again,  until  further  order  should  be  taken 
and  after  brought  wjth  them.  So  they  put  them  in,  and  made 

to  trial  .      r         r         ,          J   f 

their  feet  fast  in  the  stocks. 

Here,  therefore,  they  called  again  to  mind  what  they 
had  heard  from  their  faithful  friend  Evangelist,  and  were 
the  more  confirmed  in  their  way  and  sufferings,  by  what 

loo 


. 

/ 
j 
^ 


BROUGHT  TO  TRIAL 

he  told  them  would  happen  to  them.  They  also  now 
comforted  each  other,  that  whose  lot  it  was  to  suffer,  even 
he  should  have  the  best  on't ;  therefore  each  man  secretly 
wished  that  he  might  have  that  preferment.  But  committing 
themselves  to  the  all-wise  disposal  of  Him  that  ruleth  all 
things,  with  much  content  they  abode  in  the  condition  in 
which  they  were,  until  they  should  be  otherwise  disposed  of. 

Then,  a  convenient  time  being  appointed,  they  brought 
them  forth  to  their  trial,  in  order  to  their  condemnation.  . 
When  the  time  was  come,  they  were  brought  before  their  j 
enemies,  and   arraigned.      The  judge's  name  was   Lord  \ 
Hate-good;   their  indictment  was  one  and   the  same  in 
suBstaHce,  though   somewhat  varying  in  form ;  the  con- 
tents whereof  was  this:  That  they  were     Their indictment 
enemies  to,  and  disturbers  of,  their  trade ; 
that  they  had  made  commotions  and  divisions  in  the  town, 
and  had  won  a  party  to  their  own  most  dangerous  opinions, 
in  contempt  of  the  law  of  their  prince. 

Then  Faithful  began  to  answer,  that  he  had  only  set 
himself  against  that  which  had  set  itself     Faithful  answers 
against  Him  that  is  higher  than  the  highest.     for  himself 
And,  said   he,  as   for  disturbance,  I   make  none,  being 
myself  a  man  of  peace  :  the  parties  that  were  won  to  us, 
were  won  by  beholding  our  truth  and  innocence,  and  they 
are  only  turned  from  the  worse  to  the  better.     And  as  to 
the  king  you  talk  of,  since  he  is  Beelzebub,  the  enemy  of 
our  Lord,  I  defy  him  and  all  his  angels. 

Then  proclamation  was  made,  that  they  that  had  aught 
to  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against  the  prisoner  at  the 
bar,  should  forthwith  appear,  and  give  in  their  evidence. 
So  there  came  in  three  witnesses,  to  wit,  Envy,  Supersti- 
tion, and  Pickthank.  They  were  then  asked,  if  they  knew 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar ;  and  what  they  had  to  say  for  their 
lord  the  king  against  him. 

Then  stood  forth  Envy,  and  said  to  this  effect :  My 
lord.  I  have  known  this  man  a  long  time, 

i       .11  ,     i     c  ,  .         iinvy  begins 

and  will  attest  upon  my  oath  before  this 

honourable  bench,  that  he  is 

lol 


HE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Judge.     Hold  —  give  him  his  oath. 

So  they  sware  him.  Then  he  said,  My  lord,  this  man, 
notwithstanding  his  plausible  name,  is  one  of  the  vilest 
men  in  our  country  ;  he  neither  regardeth  prince  nor 
people,  law  nor  custom,  but  doth  all  that  he  can  to 
possess  all  men  with  certain  of  his  disloyal  notions,  which 
he  in  the  general  calls  principles  of  faith  and  holiness. 
And  in  particular,  I  heard  him  once  myself  affirm,  that 
Christianity  and  the  customs  of  our  town  of  Vanity  were 
diametrically  opposite,  and  could  not  be  reconciled.  By 
which  saying,  my  lord,  he  doth  at  once  not  only  con- 
demn all  our  laudable  doings,  but  us  in  the  doing  of  them. 

Judge.  Then  did  the  judge  say  unto  him,  Hast  thou 
any  more  to  say  ? 

Envy.  My  lord,  I  could  say  much  more,  only  I  would 
not  be  tedious  to  the  court.  Yet  if  need  be,  when  the 
other  gentlemen  have  given  in  their  evidence,  rather  than 
any  thing  shall  be  wanting  that  will  despatch  him,  I  will 
enlarge  my  testimony  against  him.  So  he  was  bid 
stand  by. 

Then  they  called  Superstition,  and  bid  him  look  upon 
Superstition  ^e  prisoner.  They  also  asked,  what  he 

foifows  could  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against 

him.  Then  they  sware  him  ;  so  he  began  : 

Super.  My  lord,  I  have  no  great  acquaintance  with 
this  man,  nor  do  I  desire  to  have  further  knowledge  of 
him.  However,  this  I  know,  that  he  is  a  very  pestilent 
fellow,  from  some  discourse  that  the  other  day  I  had  with 
him  in  this  town  ;  for  then,  talking  with  him,  I  heard  him 
say,  that  our  religion  was  naught,  and  such  by  which  a 
man  could  by  no  means  please  God.  Which  saying  of  his, 
my  lord,  your  lordship  very  well  knows  what  necessarily 
thence  will  follow,  to  wit,  that  we  still  do  worship  in 
vain,  are  yet  in  our  sins,  and  finally  shall  be  damned  :  and 
this  is  that  which  I  have  to  say. 

Then  was  Pickthank  sworn,  and  bid  say  what  he  knew 
in  behalf  of  their  lord  the  king  against  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar. 

102 


FAITHFUL'S  DEFENCE 

Pick.  My  lord,  and  you  gentlemen  all,  this  fellow  I 
have  known  of  a  long  time,  and  have  pickthank's  testi- 
heard  him  speak  things  that  ought  not  to  m°Qy 
be  spoken;  for  he  hath  railed  on  our  noble  prince 
Beelzebub,  and  hath  spoken  contemptibly  of  his  honour- 
able friends,  whose  names  are,  the  Lord  Old  Man,  the 
Lord  Carnal  Delight,  the  Lord  Luxurious,  Sins  are  ail  lords, 
the  Lord  Desire  of  Vain  Glory,  my  old  and  great  ones 
Lord  Lechery,  Sir  Having  Greedy,  with  all  the  rest  of 
our  nobility :  and  he  hath  said,  moreover,  that  if  all  men 
were  of  his  mind,  if  possible,  there  is  not  one  of  these 
noblemen  should  have  any  longer  a  being  in  this  town. 
Besides,  he  hath  not  been  afraid  to  rail  on  you,  my  lord, 
who  are  now  appointed  to  be  his  judge,  calling  you 
an  ungodly  villain,  with  many  other  such  like  vilifying 
terms,  with  which  he  hath  bespattered  most  of  the  gentry 
of  our  town. 

When  this  Pickthank  had  told  his  tale,  the  judge 
directed  his  speech  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  saying, 
Thou  runagate,  heretic,  and  traitor,  hast  thou  heard  what 
these  honest  gentlemen  have  witnessed  against  thee  ? 

Faith.     May  I  speak  a  few  words  in  my  own  defence  ? 

Judge.  Sirrah,  sirrah,  thou  deservest  to  live  no  longer, 
but  to  be  slain  immediately  upon  the  place  j  yet,  that  all 
men  may  see  our  gentleness  towards  thee,  let  us  hear 
what  thou  vile  runagate  hast  to  say. 

Faith.  I.  I  say,  then,  in  answer  to  what  Mr  Envy 
hath  spoken,  I  never  said  aught  but  this,  Faithful's  defence 
that  what  rule,  or  laws,  or  custom,  or  of  himself 
people,  were  flat  against  the  word  of  God,  are  diametri- 
cally opposite  to  Christianity.  If  I  have  said  amiss  in  this, 
convince  me  of  my  error,  and  I  am  ready  here  before  you 
to  make  my  recantation. 

2.  As  to  the  second,  to  wit,  Mr  Superstition  and  his 
charge  against  me,  I  said  only  this,  that  in  the  worship  of 
God  there  is  required  a  divine  faith ;  but  there  can  be  no 
divine  faith  without  a  divine  revelation  of  the  will  of  God. 
Therefore,  whatever  is  thrust  into  the  worship  of  God, 

103 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

that  is  not  agreeable  to  divine  revelation,  cannot  be  done 
but  by  a  human  faith,  which  faith  will  not  be  profitable  to 
eternal  life. 

3.  As  to  what  Mr  Pickthank  hath  said,  I  say  (avoiding 
terms,  as  that  I  am  said  to  rail,  and  the  like),  that  the 
prince  of  this  town,  with  all  the  rabblement,  his  attendants, 
by  this  gentleman  named,  are  more  fit  for  being  in  hell 
than  in  this  town  and  country.  And  so  the  Lord  have 
mercy  upon  me. 

Then  the  judge  called  to  the  jury  (who  all  this  while 
The  judge's  stood  by  to  hear  and  observe),  Gentlemen 

speech  to  the  jury  of  fae  jury,  you  see  this  man  about  whom 
so  great  an  uproar  hath  been  made  in  this  town ;  you  have 
also  heard  what  these  worthy  gentlemen  have  witnessed 
against  him  ;  also  you  have  heard  his  reply  and  confession  : 
it  lieth  now  in  your  breast  to  hang  him,  or  save  his  life ; 
but  yet  I  think  meet  to  instruct  you  in  our  law. 

There  was  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Pharaoh  the 
great,  servant  to  our  prince,  that,  lest  those  of  a  contrary 
religion  should  multiply,  and  grow  too  strong  for  him, 
their  males  should  be  thrown  into  the  river.  There  was 
also  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Nebuchadnezzar  the  great, 
another  of  his  servants,  that  whoever  would  not  fall  down 
and  worship  his  golden  image,  should  be  thrown  into  a 
fiery  furnace.  There  was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days 
of  Darius,  that  whoso  for  some  time  called  upon  any  God 
but  him,  should  be  cast  into  the  lions'  den.  Now  the 
substance  of  these  laws  this  rebel  has  broken,  not  only  in 
thought  (which  is  not  to  be  borne),  but  also  in  word  and 
deed  ;  which  must,  therefore,  needs  be  intolerable. 

For  that  of  Pharaoh,  his  law  was  made  upon  supposi- 
tion, to  prevent  mischief,  no  crime  yet  being  apparent; 
but  here  is  a  crime  apparent.  For  the  second  and  third, 
you  see  he  disputeth  against  our  religion  ;  and  for  the 
treason  that  he  hath  confessed,  he  deserveth  to  die  the 
death. 

Then  went  the  jury  out,  whose  names  were  Mr 
Blindman,  Mr  No-good,  Mr  Malice,  Mr  Love-lust,  Mr 

104 


FAITHFUL'S  MARTYRDOM 

Live-loose,  Mr  Heady,  Mr  High-mind,  Mr  Enmity,  Mr 
Liar,   Mr   Cruelty,   Mr  Hatelight,    and   Mr  Implacable ; 
who  every  one  gave  in  his  private  verdict     The  jury  and 
against  him  among  themselves,  and  after-     their  names 
wards   unanimously   concluded    to   bring   him   in   guilty 
before     the     judge.       And     first     among     themselves, 
Mr    Blindman,   the    foreman,    said,    I    see    clearly    that 
this   man   is   a  heretic.      Then  said   Mr     Everyone's 
No-good,  Away  with  such  a  fellow  from     Priv*te  verdict 
the   earth.     Ay,  said   Mr  Malice,  for   I   hate   the   very 
looks  of  him.     Then  said  Mr  Love-lust,  I  could  never 
endure  him.     Nor  I,  said  Mr  Live-loose,  for  he  would 
always    be    condemning    my    way.      Hang    him,   hang 
him,  said  Mr  Heady.      A  sorry  scrub,   said   Mr  High- 
mind.     My   heart   riseth   against   him,   said  Mr   Enmity. 
He  is  a  rogue,  said  Mr  Liar.     Hanging  is  too  good  for 
him,  said  Mr  Cruelty.     Let's  despatch  him  out  of  the 
way,  said  Mr  Hate-light.     Then  said  Mr 

r     J '  _o  They  conclude  to 

Implacable,  Might  I  have  all   the  world     bring  him  in 
given  me,  I  could   not  be  reconciled  to     guUty  of  death 
him;  therefore  let  us  forthwith  bring  him  guilty  of  death. 

And  so  they  did ;  therefore  he  was  presently  condemned 
to  be  had  from  the  place  where  he  was,  to  the  place  from 
whence  he  came,  and  there  to  be  put  to  the  most  cruel 
death  that  could  be  invented. 

They,  therefore,  brought  him  out,  to  do  with  him 
according  to  their  law ;  and  first  they  scourged  him,  then 
they  buffeted  him,  then  they  lanced  his  The  cruel  death  of 
flesh  with  knives  ;  after  that  they  stoned  Faithful 
him  with  stones;  then  pricked  him  with  their  swords; 
and  last  of  all  they  burned  him  to  ashes  at  the  stake. 
Thus  came  Faithful  to  his  end. 

Now  I  saw,  that  there  stood  behind  the  multitude  a 
chariot  and  a  couple  of  horses  waiting  for 
Faithful,  who  (so  soon  as  his  adversaries     horses  wait  to 
had  despatched  him)  was  taken  up  into  it,     Fahhfuiay 
and  straightway  was  carried  up  through 
the  clouds  with  sound  of  trumpet,  the  nearest  way  to  the 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

celestial  gate.  But  as  for  Christian,  he  had  some  respite, 
Christian  still  a  and  was  remanded  back  to  prison;  so  he 
prisoner  there  remained  for  a  space.  But  He  that 

overrules  all  things,  having  the  power  of  their  rage  in 
His  own  hand,  so  wrought  it  about,  that  Christian  for 
that  time  escaped  them,  and  went  his  way. 
And  as  he  went  he  sang,  saying, 

Well,  Faithful,  thou  hast  faithfully  profest 

T,  ,    .  Unto  thy  Lord,  with  whom  thou  shalt  be  blest, 

Christian  made          When  faithless  ones,  with  all  their  vain  delights, 
of  Faithful  after        Are  crying  out  under  their  hellish  plights: 
his  death  Sing,  Faithful,  sing,  and  let  thy  name  survive, 

For  though  they  killed  thee,  thou  art  yet  alive. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  went  not  forth 
Christian  has  alone  ;  for  there  was  one  whose  name  was 

another  companion  Hopeful  (being  so  made  by  the  beholding 
of  Christian  and  Faithful  in  their  words  and  behaviour,  in 
their  sufferings  at  the  fair),  who  joined  himself  unto  him, 
and  entering  into  a  brotherly  covenant,  told  him  that  he 
would  be  his  companion.  Thus  one  died  to  bear  testimony 
to  the  truth,  and  another  rises  out  of  his  ashes  to  be  a 
companion  with  Christian  in  his  pilgrimage. 

There  are  more  of       T>\'       TT         r   i        i  u     n\-    •     • 

the  men  of  the  fair      I  his    Hopeful   also    told   Christian,    that 
there  were  many  more  of  the  men  in  the 
fair  that  would  take  their  time  and  follow  after. 

So  I  saw,  that  quickly  after  they  were  got  out  of  the 
They  overtake  ^ir  ^7  overtook  one  that  was  going 
By-ends  before  them,  whose  name  was  By-ends  ; 

so  they  said  to  him,  What  countryman,  sir  ?  and  how  far 
go  you  this  way  ?  He  told  them,  that  he  came  from  the 
town  of  Fair-speech,  and  he  was  going  to  the  Celestial 
City  ;  but  told  them  not  his  name. 

From  Fair-speech  ?  said  Christian ;  is  there  any  good 
that  lives  there  ? 

By.     Yes,  said  By-ends,  I  hope. 

Chr.     Pray,  sir,  what  may  I  call  you  ?  said  Christian. 

By.  I  am  a  stranger  to  you,  and  you  to  me  :  if  you  be 
By-ends  loth  to  going  tnis  wa7>  I  sna11  be  glad  of  your 
tell  his  name  company  j  if  not,  I  must  be  content. 

~o6 


FAITHFUL'S    MARTYRDOM 

Last  of  all   they  burned  htm  to  ashes  at  the  stake.     Thus  cams 
Faithful  to  hts  end. 


DISCOURSE  WITH  BY-ENDS 

Chr.  This  town  of  Fair-speech,  said  Christian,  I  have 
heard  of  it ;  and,  as  I  remember,  they  say  it's  a  wealthy  place0 

By.  Yes,  I  will  assure  you  that  it  is ;  and  I  have  very 
many  rich  kindred  there. 

Chr.  Pray  who  are  your  kindred  there,  if  a  man  may 
be  sa  bold  ? 

By.  Almost  the  whole  town;  and  in  particular,  my 
Lord  Turn-about,  my  Lord  Time-server,  my  Lord  Fair- 
speech,  from  whose  ancestors  that  town  first  took  its 
name  •,  also  Mr  Smooth-man,  Mr  Facing-both-ways,  Mr 
Any-thing ;  and  the  parson  of  our  parish,  Mr  Two- 
tongues,  was  my  mother's  own  brother,  by  father's  side ; 
and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  become  a  gentleman  of 
good  quality ;  yet  my  great-grandfather  was  but  a  water- 
man, looking  one  way  and  rowing  another,  and  I  got  most 
of  my  estate  by  the  same  occupation. 

Chr.     Are  you  a  married  man  ? 

By.     Yes,    and   my    wife  is  a  very  virtuous  woman, 
the  daughter  of  a   virtuous   woman ;   she  was  my  Lady 
Feigning's  daughter;  therefore  she  came     The  wife  and 
of    a    very    honourable    family,    and    is     kindred  of  By- 
arrived  to  such  a  pitch  of  breeding,  that 

she  knows  how  to    carry  it    to  all,  even  to   prince  and  ^ 

peasant.     'Tis  true,  we  somewhat  differ  in  religion  from 
those  of  the  gtricter  sort,  yet  but  in  two     w^^  B  _^aAa 
small  points  :  First,  we  never  strive  against     differs  from  others 
wind  and  tide.  *"Secondly,  we  are  always 
most  zealous  when  Religion  goes  in  his  silver  slippers ; 
we  love  much  to  walk  with  him  in  the  street,  if  the  sun 
shines,  and  the  people  applaud  him. 

Then  Christian  stepped  a  little  aside  to  his  fellow 
Hopeful,  saying,  It  runs  in  my  mind  that  this  is  one  BJL- 
ends,  of  Fair-speech ;  and  if  it  be  he,  we  have  as  very  a 
knave  in  our  company  as  dwelleth  in  all  these  parts. 
Then  said  Hopeful,  Ask  him  ;  methinks  he  should  not  be 
ashamed  of  his  name.  So  Christian  came  up  with  him 
again,  and  said,  Sir,  you  talk  as  if  you  knew  something 
more  than  all  the  world  doth  ;  and,  if  I  take  not  my  mark 

107 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

amiss,  I  deem  I  have  half  a  guess  of  you.  Is  not  your 
name  Mr  By-ends,  of  Fair-speech  ? 

By.  This  is  not  my  name  ;  but,  indeed,  it  is  a  nick- 
name that  is  given  me  by  some  that  cannot  abide  me,  and 
I  must  be  content  to  bear  it  as  a  reproach,  as  other  good 
men  have  borne  theirs  before  me. 

Chr.  But  did  you  never  give  an  occasion  to  men  te 
call  you  by  this  name  ? 

By.  Never,  never !  The  worst  that  ever  I  did  to  give 
HOW  By-ends  got  them  an  occasion  to  give  me  this  name 
his  name  was>  t^at  j  h^  aiways  the  luck  to  jump 

in  my  judgment  with  the  present  way  of  the  times,  what- 
ever it  was,  and  my  chance  was  to  get  thereby ;  but  if 
things  are  thus  cast  upon  me,  let  me  count  them  a  bless- 
ing; but  let  not  the  malicious  load  me,  therefore,  with 
reproach. 

Chr.  I  thought,  indeed,  that  you  were  the  man  that  I 
heard  of;  and  to  tell  you  what  I  think,  I  fear  this  name 
belongs  to  you  more  properly  than  you  are  willing  we 
should  think  it  doth. 

By.     Well,  if  you  will  thus  imagine,  I  cannot  help  it ; 

He  desires  to  keep  7°u  sha11  find  me  a  fair  company-keeper, 
company  with  if  you  will  still  admit  me  your  associate. 

Chr.  If  you  will  go  with  us,  you  must 
go  against  wind  and  tide  ;  the  which,  I  perceive,  is  against 
your  opinion :  you  must  also  own  Religion  in  his  rags,  as 
well  as  when  in  his  silver  slippers ;  and  stand  by  him,  too, 
when  bound  in  irons,  as  well  as  when  he  walketh  the 
streets  with  applause. 

By.  You  must  not  impose,  nor  lord  it  over  my  faith ; 
leave  me  to  my  liberty,  and  let  me  go  with  you. 

Chr.  Not  a  step  farther,  unless  you  will  do  in  what  I 
propound  as  we. 

Then  said  By-ends,  I  shall  never  desert  my  old  prin- 
ciples, since  they  are  harmless  and  profitable.  If  I  may 
By-ends  and  not  S°  with  you,  I  must  do  as  I  did  be- 

Christian  part  fore  you  overtook  me,  even  go  by  myself, 
until  some  overtake  me  that  will  be  glad  of  my  company. 

Ic3 


DISCOURSE  OF  BY-ENDS 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  and  Hopeful 
forsook  him,  and  kept  their  distance  before  him ;  but  one 
of  them,  looking  back,  saw  three  men  following  Mr  By- 
ends  ;  and,  behold,  as  they  came  up  with  him,  he  made 
them  a  very  low  congee ;  and  they  also  gave  him  a  com- 
pliment. The  men's  names  were,  Mr  Hold-the-world, 
Mr  Money-love,  and  Mr  Save-all,  men  He  has  new  com- 
that  Mr  By-ends  had  formerly  been  ac-  panions 
quainted  with,  for  in  their  minority  they  were  school- 
fellows, and  were  taught  by  one  Mr  Gripe-man,  a  school- 
master in  Love-gain,  which  is  a  market-town  in  the  county 
of  Coveting,  in  the  North.  This  schoolmaster  taught  them 
the  art  of  getting,  either  by  violence,  cozenage,  flattery, 
lying,  or  by  putting  on  a  guise  of  religion;  and  these 
four  gentlemen  had  attained  much  of  the  art  of  their 
master,  so  that  they  could  each  of  them  have  kept  such  a 
school  themselves. 

Well,  when  they  had,  as  I  said,  thus  saluted  each 
other,  Mr  Money-love  said  to  Mr  By-ends,  Who  are  they 
upon  the  road  before  us  ?  for  Christian  and  Hopeful  were 
yet  within  view. 

By.  They  are  a  couple  of  far  countrymen,  that,  after 
their  mode,  are  going  on  pilgrimage.  By-ends'  char- 

Money.     Alas  !  why  did  they  not  stay,      acterofthe 
that  we  might  have  had  their  good  com-     p  ena 
pany  ?  for  they  and  we,  and  you,  sir,  I  hope  are  all  going 
on  a  pilgrimage. 

By.  We  are  so,  indeed  ;  but  the  men  before  us  are 
so  rigid,  and  love  so  much  their  own  notions,  and  do  also 
lightly  esteem  the  opinions  of  others,  that  let  a  man  be 
ever  so  godly,  yet  if  he  jumps  not  with  them  in  all  things, 
they  thrust  him  quite  out  of  their  company. 

Mr  Save.  That's  bad  ;  but  we  read  of  some  that  are 
righteous  overmuch,  and  such  men's  rigidness  prevails 
with  them  to  judge  and  condemn  all  but  themselves. 
But  I  pray,  what,  and  how  many,  were  the  things  wherein 
you  differed  ? 

By.     Why    they,    after    their    headstrong     manner, 
109 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

conclude  that  it  is  duty  to  rush  on  their  journey  all 
weathers ;  and  I  am  for  waiting  for  wind  and  tide.  They 
are  for  hazarding  all  for  God  at  a  clap  ;  and  I  am  for  taking 
all  advantages  to  secure  my  life  and  estate.  They  are  for 
holding  their  notions,  though  all  other  men  be  against  them; 
but  I  am  for  religion  in  what,  and  so  far  as,  the  times  and 
my  safety  will  bear  it.  They  are  for  Religion  when  in 
rags  and  contempt;  but  I  am  for  him  when  he  walks  in 
his  golden  slippers,  in  the  sunshine,  and  with  applause. 

Mr  Hold-the- World.  Ay,  and  hold  you  there  still, 
good  Mr  By-ends  ;  for  my  part,  I  can  count  him  but  a  fool, 
that  having  the  liberty  to  keep  what  he  has,  shall  be  so 
unwise  to  lose  it.  Let  us  be  wise  as  serpents.  It's  best 
to  make  hay  when  the  sun  shines.  You  see  how  the  bee 
lieth  still  all  winter,  and  bestirs  her  only  when  she  can 
have  profit  with  pleasure.  God  sends  sometimes  rain, 
and  sometimes  sunshine ;  if  they  be  such  fools  to  go 
through  the  first,  yet  let  us  be  content  to  take  fair  weather 
along  with  us.  For  my  part,  I  like  that  religion  best  that 
will  stand  with  the  security  of  God's  good  blessings  unto 
us;  for  who  can  imagine,  that  is  ruled  by  his  reason, 
since  God  has  bestowed  upon  us  the  good  things  of  this 
life,  but  that  He  would  have  us  keep  them  for  His  sake  ? 
Abraham  and  Solomon  grew  rich  in  religion ;  and  Job 
says,  that  a  good  man  shall  lay  up  gold  as  dust ;  but  he 
must  not  be  such  as  the  men  before  us,  if  they  be  as  you 
have  described  them. 

Mr  Save.  I  think  that  we  are  all  agreed  in  this  matter ; 
and  therefore  there  needs  no  more  words  about  it. 

Mr  Money.  Nd,  there  needs  no  more  words  about  this 
matter  indeed  ;  for  he  that  believes  neither  Scripture  nor 
reason  (and  you  see  we  have  both  on  our  side),  neither 
knows  his  own  liberty  nor  seeks  his  own  safety. 

Mr  By.  My  brethren,  we  are,  as  you  see,  going  all  on 
pilgrimage ;  and  for  our  better  diversion  from  things  that 
are  bad,  give  me  leave  to  propound  unto  you  this  question. 

Suppose  a  man,  a  minister  or  a  tradesman,  etc.,  should 
have  an  advantage  lie  before  him  to  get  the  good  blessings 

no 


>e      >\ 

it 

J 


DISCOURSE  OF  BY-ENDS 

of  this  life,  yet  so  as  that  he  can  by  no  means  come  by 
them,  except,  in  appearance  at  least,  he  becomes  extra- 
ordinary zealous  in  some  points  of  religion  that  he  meddled 
not  with  before  5  may  he  not  use  this  means  to  attain  his 
end,  and  yet  be  a  right  honest  man  ? 

Mr  Money.  I  see  the  bottom  of  your  question ;  and, 
with  these  gentlemen's  good  leave,!  will  endeavour  to  shape 
you  an  answer.  And  first,  to  speak  to  your  question  as 
concerns  a  minister  himself:  suppose  a  minister,  a  worthy 
man,  possessed  but  of  a  very  small  benefice,  and  has  in  his 
eye  a  greater,  more  fat  and  plump  by  far ;  he  has  also  now 
an  opportunity  of  getting  of  it,  yet  so  as  by  being  more 
studious,  by  preaching  more  frequently  and  zealously, 
and,  because  the  temper  of  the  people  requires  it,  by 
altering  of  some  of  his  principles  ;  for  my  part,  I  see  no 
reason  but  a  man  may  do  this,  provided  he  has  a  call,  ay, 
and  more  a  great  deal  besides,  and  yet  be  an  honest  man. 
For  why  ? 

1.  His  desire  of  a  greater  benefice  is  lawful  (this  cannot 
be  contradicted),  since  'tis  set  before  him  by  Providence ; 
so  then  he  may  get  it  if  he  can,  making  no  question  for 
conscience  sake. 

2.  Besides,  his  desire  after  that  benefice  makes  him  more 
studious,  a  more  zealous  preacher,  etc.,  and  so  makes  him 
a  better  man,  yea,  makes  him  better  improve  his  parts, 
which  is  according  to  the  mind  of  God. 

3.  Now,  as  for  his  complying  with  the  temper  of  his 
people,  by  dissenting,  to  serve  them,  some  of  his  principles, 
this  argueth,    I.    That  he   is  of  a  self-denying  temper. 
2.  Of  a  sweet  and  winning  deportment.     3.  And  so  more 
fit  for  the  ministerial  function. 

4.  I  conclude,  then,  that  a  minister  that  changes  a  small 
for  a   great,    should   not,    for   so   doing,    be  judged   as 
covetous  ;   but  rather,  since  he  is  improved  in  his  parts 
and  industry  thereby,  be  counted  as  one  that  pursues  his 
call,  and  the  opportunity  put  into  his  hand  to  do  good. 

And  now  to  the  second  part  of  the  question,  which 
concerns  the  tradesman  you  mentioned.     Suppose  such  an 

III 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

one  to  have  but  a  poor  employ  in  the  world,  but  by  be- 
coming religious,  he  may  mend  his  market,  perhaps  get  a 
rich  wife,  or  more  and  far  better  customers  to  his  shop; 
for  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  but  that  this  may  be  lawfully 
done.  For  why  ? 

1.  To  become  religious  is  a  virtue,  by  what  means 
soever  a  man  becomes  so. 

2.  Nor  is  it  unlawful  to  get  a  rich  wife,  or  more  custom 
to  my  shop. 

3.  Besides,  the  man  that  gets  these  by  becoming  re- 
ligious, gets  that  which  is  good  of  them  that  are  good,  by 
becoming  good  himself;  so  then  here  is  a  good  wife,  and 
good  customers,  and  good  gain,  and  all  these  by  becoming 
religious,  which  is  good ;  therefore,  to  become  religious 
to  get  all  these  is  a  good  and  profitable  design. 

This  answer  thus  made  by  Mr  Money-love  to  Mr 
Bye-ends'  question,  was  highly  applauded  by  them  all; 
wherefore  they  concluded  upon  the  whole,  that  it  was 
most  wholesome  and  advantageous.  And  because,  as  they 
thought,  no  man  was  able  to  contradict  it,  and  because 
Christian  and  Hopeful  were  yet  within  call,  they  jointly 
agreed  to  assault  them  with  the  question  as  soon  as  they 
overtook  them  ;  and  the  rather,  because  they  had  opposed 
Mr  By-ends  before.  So  they  called  after  them,  and  they 
stopped  and  stood  still  till  they  came  up  to  them  ;  but  they 
concluded  as  they  went,  that  not  Mr  By-ends,  but  old  Mr 
Hold-the-World,  should  propound  the  question  to  them, 
because,  as  they  supposed,  their  answer  to  him  would  be 
without  the  remainder  of  that  heat,  that  was  kindled  betwix* 
Mr  Bye-ends  and  them  at  their  parting  a  little  before. 

So  they  came  up  to  each  other,  and  after  a  short  salutation, 
Mr  Hold-the-World  propounded  the  question  to  Christian 
and  his  fellow,  and  bid  them  to  answer  it  if  they  could. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian,  Even  a  babe  in  religion  may 
answer  ten  thousand  such  questions.  For  if  it  be  un- 
lawful to  follow  Christ  for  loaves,  as  it  is ;  how  much 
more  is  it  abominable  to  make  of  Him  and  religion  a 
stalking-horse  to  get  and  enjoy  the  world  !  Nor  do  we 

112, 


MR  HOLD-THE-WORLD 

find  any  other  than  heathens,  hypocrites,  devils,  and  witches, 
that  are  of  this  opinion. 

1.  Heathens  :  for  when  Hamor  and  Shechem  had  a  mind 
to  the  daughter  and  cattle  of  Jacob,  and  saw  that  there 
was  no  way  for  them  to  come  at  them  but  by  becoming 
circumcised,  they  say  to  their  companions,  If  every  male 
of  us  be  circumcised,  as  they  are  circumcised,  shall  not 
their  cattle,  and  their  substance,  and  every  beast  of  theirs 
be  ours  ?    Their  daughters  and  their  cattle  were  that  which 
they  sought  to  obtain,  and  their  religion  the  stalking-horse 
they  made  use  of  to  come  at  them.     Read  the  whole 
story. 

2.  The  hypocritical  Pharisees  were  also  of  this  religion : 
long  prayers  were  their  pretence ;  but  to  get  widows' 
houses  was  their  intent,  and  greater  damnation  was  from 
God  their  judgment. 

3.  Judas  the  devil  was  also  of  this  religion:  he  was 
religious  for  the  bag,  that  he  might  be  possessed  of  what 
was  therein;  but  he  was  lost,  cast  away,  and  the  very 
son  of  perdition. 

4.  Simon  the  witch  was  of  this  religion  too;   for  he 
would  have  had  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  he  might  have  got 
money  therewith ;  and  his  sentence  from  Peter's  mouth 
was  according. 

5.  Neither  will  it  out  of  my  mind,  but  that  that  man 
that  takes  up  religion  for  the  world,  will  throw  away 
religion  for  the  world ;  for  so  surely  as  Judas  designed 
the  world  in  becoming  religious,  so  surely  did  he  also  sell 
religion  and  his  Master  for  the  same.     To  answer  the 
question,  therefore,  affirmatively,  as  I  perceive  you  have 
done,  and  to   accept   of,   as   authentic,   such  answer,  is 
heathenish,  hypocritical,  and  devilish ;   and  your  reward 
will  be  according  to  your  works. 

Then  they  stood  staring  one  upon  another,  but  had  not 
wherewith  to  answer  Christian.  Hopeful  also  approved 
of  the  soundness  of  Christian's  answer;  so  there  was  a 
great  silence  among  them.  Mr  By-ends  and  his  company 
also  staggered,  and  kept  behind,  that  Christian  and 

IT3  H 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Hopeful  might  outgo  them.  Then  said  Christian  to  his 
fellow,  If  these  men  cannot  stand  before  the  sentence  of 
men,  what  will  they  do  with  the  sentence  of  God  ?  And 
if  they  are  mute  when  dealt  with  by  vessels  of  clay,  what 
will  they  do  when  they  shall  be  rebuked  by  the  flames  of 
a  devouring  fire ! 

Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  outwent  them  again,  and 
went  till  they  came  at  a  delicate  plain, 

The  ease  that  pil-  . .     .    ,-,  /  .  , 

grims  have  is  but  called  base,  where  they  went  with  much 
content ;  but  that  plain  was  but  narrow, 
so  they  were  quickly  got  over  it.  Now  at  the  farther 
side  of  that  plain  was  a  little  hill,  called  Lucre,  and  in 
that  hill  a  silver  mine,  which  some  of  them  that  had 
formerly  gone  that  way,  because  of  the  rarity  of  it,  had 
turned  aside  to  see ;  but  going  too  near  the  brim  of  the 
Lucre  Hill,  a  dan-  pit,  the  ground,  being  deceitful  under 
geroushiii  them,  broke,  and  they  were  slain:  some 

also  had  been  maimed  there,  and  could  not,  to  their  dying 
day,  be  their  own  men  again. 

Demas  at  the  Hill         Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  a  little 

Lucre  off  the  road,  over  against  the  silver  mine, 

stood    Demas    (gentleman-like)    to    call    passengers    to 

come   and   see;    who    said    to   Christian 

He  calls  to  Chris-  i  i  •     r  n  TTI  •  i     t  •  «  i 

tian  and  Hopeful       and  his  fellow,  Ho  !  turn  aside  hither,  and 
I  will  show  you  a  thing. 

Chr.  What  thing  so  deserving  as  to  turn  us  out  of 
the  way  to  see  it  ?  * 

Demas.  Here  is  a  silver  mine,  and  some  digging  in  it 
for  treasure ;  if  you  will  come,  with  a  little  pains  you  may 
richly  provide  for  yourselves. 

Hopeful  tempted  Hope.  Then  said  Hopeful,  Let  us  go  see. 

tiaShoWs S£is~  Chr.   Not  I,  said  Christian  ;  I  have  heard 

back  of  this  place  before  now,  and  how  many 

there  have  been  slain ;  and,  besides,  that  treasure  is  a  snare 
to  those  that  seek  it,  for  it  hindereth  them  in  their  pilgrimage. 

Then  Christian  called  to  Demas,  saying,  Is  not  the 
place  dangerous  ?  Hath  it  not  hindered  many  in  their 
pilgrimage  ? 

114 


DEM  A  8 
Then  said  Hopeful,  "  Let  us  go  see.' 


BY-ENDS  AND  DEMAS 

Demas.  Not  very  dangerous,  except  to  those  that 
are  careless  ;  but  withal,  he  blushed  as  he  spake. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  Let  us  not  stir 
a  step,  but  still  keep  on  our  way. 

Hope.  I  will  warrant  you,  when  By-ends  comes  up, 
if  he  hath  the  same  invitation  as  we,  he  will  turn  in 
thither  to  see. 

Chr.  No  doubt  thereof,  for  his  principles  lead  him 
that  way,  and  a  hundred  to  one  but  he  dies  there. 

Demas.  Then  Demas  called  again,  saying,  But  will 
you  not  come  over  and  see  ? 

Chr.  Then  Christian  roundly  answered,  saying,  Demas, 
thou  art  an  enemy  to  the  right  ways  of  the  Christian  roundeth 
Lord  of  this  way,  and  hast  been  already  UP  Demas 
condemned  for  thine  own  turning  aside,  by  one  of  His 
Majesty's  judges,  and  why  seekest  thou  to  bring  us  into 
the  like  condemnation  ?  Besides,  if  we  at  all  turn  aside, 
our  Lord  the  King  will  certainly  hear  thereof,  and  will 
there  put  us  to  shame,  where  we  would  stand  with  boldness 
before  Him. 

Demas  cried  again,  that  he  also  was  one  of  their 
fraternity ;  and  that  if  they  would  tarry  a  little,  he  also 
himself  would  walk  with  them. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian,  What  is  thy  name  ?  Is  it 
not  the  same  by  the  which  I  have  called  thee  ? 

Demas.  Yes,  my  name  is  Demas ;  I  am  the  son  of 
Abraham. 

Chr.  I  know  you ;  Gehazi  was  your  great-grandfather, 
and  Judas  your  father,  and  you  have  trod  their  steps ; 
it  is  but  a  devilish  prank  that  thou  usest ;  thy  father 
was  hanged  for  a  traitor,  and  thou  deservest  no  better 
reward.  Assure  thyself,  that  when  we  come  to  the  King, 
we  will  do  Him  word  of  this  thy  behaviour.  Thus  they 
went  their  way. 

By  thic  time   By-ends  and  his  companions  were  come 
again  within  sight,  and  they  at  the  first     By-ends  goes  over 
beck  went  over  to  Demas.    Now,  whether     to  Demas 
they  fell  into  the  pit  by  looking  over  the  brink  thereof, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

or  whether  they  went  down  to  dig,  or  whether  they  were 
smothered  in  the  bottom  by  the  damps  that  commonly 
arise,  of  these  things  I  am  not  certain  ;  but  this  I  observed, 
that  they  never  were  seen  again  in  the  way.  Then  sang 
Christian : 

By-ends  and  silver  Demas  both  agree; 
One  calls,  the  other  runs,  that  he  may  be 
A  sharer  in  his  lucre:    so  these  do 
Take  up  in  this  world,  and  no  farther  go. 

Now  I  saw,  that  just  on  the  other  side  of  this  plain,  the 
They  see  a  strange  pilgrims  came  to  a  place  where  stood  an 
monument  Q]^  monument  hard  by  the  highway-side, 

at  the  sight  of  which  they  were  both  concerned,  because 
of  the  strangeness  of  the  form  thereof;  for  it  seemed  to 
them  as  if  it  had  been  a  woman  transformed  into  the 
shape  of  a  pillar.  Here,  therefore,  they  stood  looking 
and  looking  upon  it,  but  could  not  for  a  time  tell  what 
they  should  make  thereof.  At  last  Hopeful  espied 
written  above  upon  the  head  thereof  a  writing  in  an 
unusual  hand ;  but  he  being  no  scholar,  called  to  Christian 
(for  he  was  learned)  to  see  if  he  could  pick  out  the 
meaning :  so  he  came,  and  after  a  little  laying  of  letters 
together,  he  found  the  same  to  be  this,  Remember  Lot's 
wife.  So  he  read  it  to  his  fellow ;  after  which  they 
both  concluded,  that  that  was  the  pillar  of  salt  into  which 
Lot's  wife  was  turned,  for  her  looking  back  with  a 
covetous  heart,  when  she  was  going  from  Sodom  for 
safety.  Which  sudden  and  amazing  sight  gave  them 
occasion  of  this  discourse. 

Chr.  Ah,  my  brother !  this  is  a  seasonable  sight,  it 
came  opportunely  to  us  after  the  invitation  which  Demas 
gave  us  to  come  over  to  view  the  Hill  Lucre  ;  and  had  we 
gone  over,  as  he  desired  us,  and  as  thou  wast  inclined  to  do, 
my  brother,  we  had,  for  aught  I  know,  been  made  like  this 
woman  a  spectacle  for  those  that  shall  come  after,  to  behold. 

Hope.  I  am  sorry  that  I  was  so  foolish,  and  am  made 
to  wonder  that  I  am  not  now  as  Lot's  wife ;  for  wherein 
was  the  difference  'twixt  her  sin  and  mine?  She  only 


DISCOURSE  ON  LOT'S  WIFE 

looked  back,  and  I  had  a  desire  to  go  see.  Let  grace  be 
adored;  and  let  me  be  ashamed  that  ever  such  a  thing 
should  be  in  mine  heart. 

Chr.  Let  us  take  notice  of  what  we  see  here,  for  our 
help  for  time  to  come.  This  woman  escaped  one  judgment, 
for  she  fell  not  by  the  destruction  of  Sodom ;  yet  she  was 
destroyed  by  another,  as  we  see  5  she  is  turned  into  a 
pillar  of  salt. 

Hope.  True,  and  she  may  be  to  us  both  caution  and 
example ;  caution,  that  we  should  shun  her  sin,  or  a  sign 
of  what  judgment  will  overtake  such  as  shall  not  be  pre- 
vented by  this  caution ;  so  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram, 
with  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  that  perished  in  their 
sin,  did  also  become  a  sign  or  example  to  beware.  But 
above  all,  I  muse  at  one  thing,  to  wit,  how  Demas  and 
his  fellows  can  stand  so  confidently  yonder  to  look  for 
that  treasure,  which  'this  woman  but  for  looking  behind 
her  after  (for  we  read  not  that  she  stepped  one  foot 
out  of  the  way)  was  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt  ;  specially 
since  the  judgment  which  overtook  her  did  but  make 
her  an  example  within  sight  of  where  they  are ;  for 
they  cannot  choose  but  see  her,  did  they  but  lift  up 
their  eyes. 

Chr.  It  is  a  thing  to  be  wondered  at,  and  it  argueth 
that  their  hearts  are  grown  desperate  in  that  case ;  and  I 
cannot  tell  who  to  compare  them  to  so  fitly,  as  to  them 
that  pick  pockets  in  the  presence  of  the  judge,  or  that  will 
cut  purses  under  the  gallows.  It  is  said  of  the  men  of 
Sodom,  that  they  were  sinners  exceedingly,  because  they 
were  sinners  '  before  the  Lord,'  that  is,  in  His  eye-sight, 
and  notwithstanding  the  kindnesses  that  He  had  showed 
them ;  for  the  land  of  Sodom  was  now  like  the  garden 
of  Eden  heretofore.  This,  therefore,  provoked  Him 
the  more  to  jealousy,  and  made  their  plague  as  hot  as 
the  fire  of  the  Lord  out  of  heaven  could  make  it.  And  it 
is  most  rationally  to  be  concluded,  that  such,  even  such 
as  these  are,  they  that  shall  sin  in  the  sight,  yea,  and  that 
too  in  despite  of  such  examples  that  are  set  continually 

117 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

before  them  to  caution  them  to  the  contrary,  must  be 
partakers  of  severest  judgments. 

Hope.  Doubtless  thou  hast  said  the  truth ;  but  what 
a  mercy  is  it  that  neither  thou,  but  especially  I,  am  not 
made  myself  this  example  !  This  ministereth  occasion  to 
us  to  thank  God,  to  fear  before  Him,  and  always  to 
remember  Lot's  wife. 

I  saw  then  that  they  went  on  their  way  to  a  pleasant 

river,  which  David  the  king   called  the 

river   of   God;    but   John,  the  river   of 

the  water  of  life.     Now  their  way  lay  just   upon   the 

bank   of  the   river:   here,    therefore,  Christian   and   his 

companion    walked    with    great    delight  ;     they    drank 

also   of    the   water   of    the   river,    which   was    pleasant 

Trees  by  the  river     and.  enlivening    to    their    weary   spirits. 

Besides,  on  the  banks  of  this  river,  on 

The  fruit  and  either    side,   were    green    trees    for    all 

leaves  of  the  trees     manner  of  fruit .  and  the  leaves  they  ate 

to  prevent  surfeits,  and  other  diseases  that  are  incident 
to  those  that   heat   their  blood   by  travels.     On   either 
side  of  the  river  was  also  a  meadow,  curiously  beauti- 
fied with  lilies ;  and  it  was  green  all  the 

A  meadow  m  T       ,  . 

which  they  lie  year  long.     In  this  meadow  they  lay  down 

tosleep  and  slept,  for  here  they  might  lie  down 

safely.  When  they  awoke,  they  gathered  again  of  the 
fruit  of  the  trees,  and  drank  again  of  the  water  of  the 
river,  and  then  lay  down  again  to  sleep.  Thus  they  did 
several  days  and  nights.  Then  they  sang : 

Behold  ye  how  these  crystal  streams  do  glide, 

To  comfort  pilgrims  by  the  highway-side. 

The  meadows  green,  besides  their  fragrant  smell, 

Yield  dainties  for  them  ;   and  he  that  can  tell 

What  pleasant  fruit,  yea,  leaves,  these  trees  do  yield, 

Will  soon  sell  all,  that  he  may  buy  this  field. 

So  when  they  were  disposed  to  go  on  (for  they  were 
not  as  yet  at  their  journey's  end),  they  ate,  and  drank,  and 
departed. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream,  that  they  had  not  journeyed 
1:8 


BY-PATH  MEADOW 

far,  but  the  river  and  the  way   for  a   time  parted,   at 
which  they  were  not  a  little  sorry;  yet  they  durst  not 
go  out  of  the  way.      Now  the  way  from  the  river  was 
rough,  and  their  feet  tender  by  reason  of  their  travels; 
so  the  souls  of  the  pilgrims  were  much  discouraged  be- 
cause of  the  way.     Wherefore  still  as  they  went  on,  they 
wished   for   better   way.      Now   a   little 
before  them,  there  was  on  the  left  hand       y"p 
of  the  road  a  meadow  and  a  stile  to  go  over  into  it,  and 
that    meadow   is    called   By-path   Meadow.      Then    said 
Christian  to  his  fellow,  If  this  Meadow  lieth  along  by  our 
way-side,  let's  go  over  into  it.     Then  he  went  to  the  stile 
to  see,  and  behold  a  path  lay  along  by  the     Qne  t      tation 
way  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.      Tis     does  make  way 
according  to  my  wish,  said  Christian  ;  here 
is  the  easiest  going;  come,  good  Hopeful,  and  let  us  go  over. 

Hope.  But,  how  if  this  path  should  lead  us  out  of  the 
way  ? 

Chr.     That's  not  like,  said  the  other.     Look,  doth  it 
not  go  along  by  the  way-side  ?     So  Hopeful,  being  per- 
suaded by  his  fellow,  went  after  him  over 
the  stile.    When  they  were  gone  over,  and     ^ary°?fad  wtak"3 
were  got  into  the  path,  they  found  it  very     ones  out  of  the 
easy   for    their  feet ;    and   withal,    they, 
looking  before  them,  espied  a  man  walking  as  they  did, 
and  his  name  was  Vain-Confidence :  so  they  called  after 
him,  and  asked  him  whither  that  way  led.     See  what  it  is  too 
He  said,  To  the  celestial  gate.     Look,  said     suddenly  to  fail  m 
Christian,  did  not  I  tell  you  so  ?  by  this     witl 
you  may  see  v/e  are  right.     So  they  followed,  and  he  went 
before  them.     But  behold  the  night  came  on,  and  it  grew 
very  dark ;  so  that  they  that  went  behind  lost  the  sight  of 
him  that  went  before. 

He   therefore  that  went    before  (Vain-Confidence  by 
name),  not  seeing  the  way  before  him,  fell     A  pit  to  catch  the 
into  a  deep  pit,  which  was  on  purpose  there     vam-gionous  in 
made  by  the  prince  of  those  grounds  to  catch  vain-glorious 
fools  withal,  and  was  dashed  to  pieces  with  his  fall. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Now  Christian  and  his  fellow  heard  him  fall.     So  they 

called  to  know  the  matter,  but  there  was  none  to  answer, 

only  they  heard  a  groaning.     Then  said 

Reasoning  be-  TT   J     r  1-'^Tri  °  •>      .T.I 

tween  Christian  Hopeful,  Where  are  we  now  ?  Then  was 
and  Hopeful  ^\s  feuow  siient,  as  mistrusting  that  he 

had  led  him  out  of  the  way ;  and  now  it  began  to  rain, 
and  thunder  and  lighten  in  a  very  dreadful  manner,  and 
the  water  rose  amain. 

Then  Hopeful  groaned  in  himself,  saying,  Oh  that  I 
had  kept  on  my  way ! 

Chr.  Who  could  have  thought  that  this  path  should 
have  led  us  out  of  the  way  ? 

Hope.  I  was  afraid  on't  at  the  very  first,  and  therefore 
gave  you  that  gentle  caution.  I  would  have  spoke  plainer, 
but  you  are  older  than  I. 

Chr.  Good  brother,  be  not  offended ; 
SceSfo?"eSadS|nt"  l  am  Sorr7  J  have  brought  thee  out  of  the 
of?isff£other  waY>  and  that  I  have  put  thee  into  such 

out  ot  tne  way  *  *  *  .         .  c 

imminent  danger.  Pray,  my  brother,  for- 
give me  ;  I  did  not  do  it  of  an  evil  intent. 

Hope.  Be  comforted,  my  brother,  for  I  forgive  thee ; 
and  believe,  too,  that  this  shall  be  for  our  good. 

Chr.  I  am  glad  I  have  with  me  a  merciful  brother ; 
but  we  must  not  stand  thus ;  let's  try  to  go  back  again. 

Hope.     But,  good  brother,  let  me  go  before. 

Chr.  No,  if  you  please,  let  me  go  first,  that  if  there 
be  any  danger,  I  may  be  first  therein,  because  by  my 
means  we  are  both  gone  out  of  the  way. 

Hope.     No,  said  Hopeful,  you  shall  not  go  first,  for 

your   mind    being    troubled    may  lead   you    out   of  the 

way  again.      Then  for  their   encouragement  they  heard 

the  voice  of  one  saying,  Let  thine  heart  be  towards  the 

highway,  even  the  way  that  thou  wentest ;   turn  again. 

But  by  this  time  the  waters  were  greatly 

JanJeroVdrown-       risen>   by   reason   of  which    the  way  of 

blfk8  they  8°          SomS  back  was  very  dangerous.     (Then  I 

thought  that  it  is  easier  going  out  of  the 

way  when    we    are    in,    than   going    in    when    we    are 

120 


GIANT  DESPAIR  SEIZES  THEM 

out.)  Yet  they  adventured  to  go  back  5  but  it  was  so 
dark,  and  the  flood  was  so  high,  that  in  their  going 
back  they  had  like  to  have  been  drowned  nine  or  ten 
times. 

Neither  could  they,  with  all  the   skill  they  had,   get 
again  to  the  stile  that  night.     Wherefore  at  last,  lighting 
under  a  little  shelter,  they  sat  down  there     Tfae  glee  fa  the 
till   the   day    brake;    but,   being   weary,     grounds ofGiant 
they  fell  asleep.     Now  there  was,  not  far 
from  the  place  where  they  lay,  a  castle,  called  Doubting 
Castle,  the  owner  whereof  was  Giant  Despair*  and  it  was 
in  ms  grounds  they  were  now  sleeping :  wherefore  he, 
getting  up  in  the  morning  early,  and  walking  up  and  down 
in  his  fields,  caught  Christian  and  Hopeful  asleep  in  his 
grounds.     Then  with  a  grim  and  surly  voice  he  bid  them 
awake,  and  asked  them  whence  they  were,  and  what  they 
did  in  his  grounds.     They  told  him  they  were  pilgrims, 
and  that  they  had  lost  their  way.     Then 
said  the  giant,  You  have  this  night  tres- 
passed  on  me  by  trampling  in  and  lying  on     JJoubtSinhecastie 
my  ground,  and  therefore  you  must  go 
along  with  me.     So  they  were  forced  to  go,  because  he 
was  stronger  than  they.     They  also  had  but  little  to  say, 
for  they  knew  themselves  in  a  fault.    The  giant,  therefore, 
drove  them  before  him,  and  put  them  into  his  castle,  into 
a  very  dark  dungeon,  nasty,  and  stinking  to  the  spirits  of 
these  two  menu    Her?,  then,  they  lav  from 

TTT     i  .  •  1 1     n  i  •  The  gnevousness 

Wednesday  morning  till  Saturday  night,     of  their  imprison- 
without  one  bit  of  bread  or  drop  of  drink,     ment 
or  light,  or  any  to  ask  how  they  did :  they  were,  there- 
fore, here  in  evil  case,  and   were  far  from  friends  and 
acquaintance.      Now  in  this  place  Christian  had  double 
sorrow,  because  'twas  through  his  unadvised  counsel  that 
they  were  brought  into  this  distress. 

Now  Giant  Despair  had  a  wife,  and  her  name  was 
Diffidence :  so  when  he  was  gone  to  bed,  he  told  his  wife 
what  he  had  done,  to  wit,  that  he  had  taken  a  couple  of 
prisoners,  and  cast  them  into  his  dungeon  for  trespassing 

121 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

on  his  grounds.  Then  he  asked  her  also  what  he  had  best 
to  do  further  to  them.  So  she  asked  what  they  were, 
whence  they  came,  and  whither  they  were  bound,  and  he 
told  her.  Then  she  counselled  him,  that  when  he  arose 
in  the  morning  he  should  beat  them  without  mercy.  So 
when  he  arose,  he  getteth  him  a  grievous  crabtree  cudgel, 
and  goes  down  into  the  dungeon  to  them,  and  there  first 
falls  to  rating  of  them  as  if  they  were  dogs,  although  they 
OnThursda  ^ve  ^m  never  a  word  of  distaste.  Then 

oPant  Despair          he  falls  upon  them,  and  beats  them  fear- 

beats  his  prisoners       fully>  jn  such  ^  ^  they  were  nQt  abje 

to  help  themselves,  or  to  turn  them  upon  the  floor.  This 
done,  he  withdraws  and  leaves  them  there  to  condole  their 
misery,  and  to  mourn  under  their  distress :  so  all  that 
day  they  spent  the  time  in  nothing  but  sighs  and  bitter 
lamentations.  The  next  night  she,  talking  with  her 
husband  about  them  further,  and  understanding  that  they 
were  yet  alive,  did  advise  him  to  counsel  them  to  make 
•*v  away  themselves.  So  when  morning 
(  Despair^sds  \  was  come>  he  goes  to  them  in  a  surly 
seizes*0  kUI  them" ;  manner»  as  before,  and  perceiving  them  to 
be  very  sore  with  the  stripes  that  he  had 
given  them  the  day  before,  he  told  them,  that  since  they 
were  never  like  to  come  out  of  that  place,  their  only  way 
would  be  forthwith  to  make  an  end  of  themselves,  either 
with  knife,  halter,  or  poison :  for  why,  said  he,  should 
you  choose  life,  seeing  it  is  attended  with  so  much 
bitterness  ?  But  they  desired  him  to  let  them  go.  With 
that  he  looked  ugly  upon  them,  and  rushing  to  them,  had 
doubtless  made  an  end  of  them  himself,  but  that  he  fell 
The  Giant  some-  into  one  °f  his  fits  (for  he  sometimes,  in 
times  has  fits  sunshiny  weather,  fell  into  fits),  and  lost 

for  a  time  the  use  of  his  hand  ;  wherefore  he  withdrew, 
and  left  them  as  before  to  consider  what  to  do.  Then  did 
the  prisoners  consult  between  themselves,  whether  'twas 
best  to  take  his  counsel  or  no ;  and  thus  they  began  to 
discourse  : 

Chr.     Brother,  said  Christian,  what  shall  we  do  ?    The 

122 


IN    THE    DUNGEON    OP    GIANT    DESPAIR 
Here,  then,  they  lay  from  Wednesday  morning  till  Saturday 
without  one  bit  of  tread,  or  drop  of  drink,  or  ll;\t 


DISCOURSE  IN  THE  DUNGEON 

life  that  we  now  live  is  miserable.     For  my  part,  I  know 

not  whether  is  best  to  live  thus,  or  die          . 

out  of  hand.    My  soul  chooseth  strangling 

rather  than  life,  and  the  grave  is  more  easy  for  me  than  this 

dungeon.     Shall  we  be  ruled  by  the  giant  ? 

Hope.  Indeed  our  present  condition  is  dreadful,  and 
death  would  be  far  more  welcome  to  me  than  thus  for 
ever  to  abide ;  but  yet  let  us  consider,  the  Lord  of  the 
country  to  which  we  are  going  hath  said/Thou  shalt  do 
no  murder,  no,  not  to  another  man's  person ;  much  more 
then  are  we  forbidden  to  take  his  counsel  to  kill  ourselves. 
Besides,  he  that  kills  another,  can  but  commit  murder  upon 
his  body  ;  but  for  one  to  kill  himself,  is  to  kill  body  and 
soul  at  once.  And,  moreover,  my  brother,  H0peful  C0mforts 
thou  talkest  of  ease  in  the  grave  ;  but  hast  him 
thou  forgotten  the  hell,  whither  for  certain  the  murderers 
go  ?  for  no  murderer  hath  eternal  life,  etc.  And  let  us 
consider  again,  that  all  the  law  is  not  in  the  hand  of  Giant 
Despair  ;  others,  so  far  as  I  can  understand,  have  been 
taken  by  him  as  well  as  we,  and  yet  have  escaped  out  of 
his  hand.  Who  knows  but  that  God,  that  made  the 
world,  may  cause  that  Giant  Despair  may  die  5  or  that  at 
some  time  or  other  he  may  forget  to  lock  us  in  ;  or  but  he 
may,  in  a  short  time,  have  another  of  his  fits  before  us, 
and  may  lose  the  use  of  his  limbs  ?  And  if  ever  that 
should  come  to  pass  again,  for  my  part,  I  am  resolved  to 
pluck  up  the  heart  of  a  man,  and  to  try  my  utmost  to  get 
from  under  his  hand.  I  was  a  fool  that  I  did  not  try  to 
do  it  before.  But,  however,  my  brother,  let's  be  jjatifint, 
and  endure  a  while  ;  the  time  may  come  that  may  give  us  % 
a  happy  release  ;  but  let  us  not  be  our  own  murderers.) 
With  these  words  Hopeful  at  present  did  moderate  the 
mind  of  his  brother  5  so  they  continued  together  in  the 
dark  that  day,  in  their  sad  and  doleful  condition. 

Well,  towards  evening  the  giant  goes  down  into  the 
dungeon  again,  to  see  if  his  prisoners  had  taken  his  counsel. 
But  when  he  came  there,  he  found  them  alive;  and  truly, 
alive  was  all  5  for  now,  what  for  want  of  bread  and  water, 

123 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  by  reason  of  the  wounds  they  received  when  he  beat 
them,  they  could  do  little  but  breathe.  But  I  say,  he 
found  them  alive ;  at  which  he  fell  into  a  grievous  rage, 
and  told  them,  that  seeing  they  had  disobeyed  his  counsel,  it 
should  be  worse  with  them  than  if  they  had  never  been  born. 

At  this  they  trembled  greatly,  and  I  think  that  Christian 
fell  into  a  swound ;  but  coming  a  little  to  himself  again, 
Christian  still  they  renewed  their  discourse  about  the 

dejected  giant's  counsel,  and  whether  yet  they  had 

best  take  it  or  no.  Now  Christian  again  seemed  to  be  for 
doing  it ;  but  Hopeful  made  his  second  reply  as  followeth  : 

Hope.  My  brother,  said  he,  rememberest  thou  not 
Hopeful  comforts  how  valiant  thou  hast  been  heretofore  ? 
him  again  by  Apollyon  could  n*t  crush  thce,  n*r  cauld 

calling:  former  iiu^.^u-.j-j        i_  r      i    • 

things  to  re-  all  that  thfu  didst  hear,  *r  see,  *r  reel  in 

the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  What 
hardship,  terror,  and  amazement  hast  thou  already  gone 
through !  and  art  thou  now  nothing  but  fears  ?  Thou 
seest  that  I  am  in  the  dungeon  with  thee,  a  far  weaker  man 
by  nature  than  thou  art.  Also  this  giant  has  wounded 
me  as  well  as  thee,  and  hath  also  cut  off  the  bread  and 
water  from  my  mouth,  and  with  that  I  mourn  without  the 
light.  But  let's  exercise  a  little  more  giatience.  Re- 
member how  thou  playedst  the  man  at  VanityFair,  and 
wast  neither  afraid  of  the  chain  nor  cage,  nof^yetofTbloody 
death :  wherefore  let  us  (at  least  to  avoid  the  shame  that 
becomes  not  a  Christian  to  be  found  in)  bear  up  with 
patience  as  well  as  we  can. 

Now  night  being  come  again,  and  the  giant  and  his  wife 
being  in  bed,  she  asked  him  concerning  the  prisoners,  and 
if  they  had  taken  his  counsel  :  to  which  he  replied,  They 
are  sturdy  rogues  j  they  choose  rather  to  bear  all  hard- 
ship than  to  make  away  themselves.  Then  said  she,  Take 
them  into  the  castle-yard  to-morrow,  and  show  them  the 
bones  and  skulls  of  those  that  thou  hast  already  despatched, 
and  make  them  believe,  ere  a  week  comes  to  an  end, 
thou  also  wilt  tear  them  in  pieces,  as  thou  hast  done  their 
fellows  before  them. 


KEY  OF  PROMISE 

So  when  the  morning  was  come,  the  giant  goes  to  them 
again,  and  takes  them  into  the  castle-yard,  and  shows  them 
as  his  wife  had  bidden  him.    These,  said  he,  were  pilgrims, 
as  you  are,  once,  and  they  trespassed  in     On  Saturday  the 
my  grounds  as  you  have  done  ;  and  when     giant  threatened 

_.  '.  6  -     ,     J  i        -•  J  that  shortly  he 

I  thought  fit  I  tore  them  in  pieces,  and  so  would  pull  them 
within  ten  days  I  will  do  you  ;  get  you 
down  into  your  den  again.  And  with  that  he  beat  them  all 
the  way  thither.  They  lay,  therefore,  all  day  on  Saturday 
in  a  lamentable  case,  as  before.  Now  when  night  was  come, 
and  when  Mrs  Diffidence  and  her  husband,  the  giant,  were 
got  to  bed,  they  began  to  renew  their  discourse  of  their 
prisoners;  and  withal  the  old  giant  wondered,  that  he 
could  neither  by  his  blows  nor  counsel  bring  them  to  an 
end.  And  with  that  his  wife  replied,  I  fear,  said  she,  that 
they  live  in  hopes  that  some  will  come  to  relieve  them  ; 
or  that  they  have  picklocks  about  them,  by  the  means  of 
which  they  hope  to  escape.  And  sayest  thou  so,  my  dear  ? 
said  the  giant  ;  I  will  therefore  search  them  in  the  morning. 

Well,  on  Saturday,  about  midnight,  they  began  to  pray, 
and  continued  in  prayer  till  almost  break  of  day. 

Now,  a  little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as  one 
half  amazed,  brake  out  in  this  passionate  speech  ;  What  a 


fool,  quoth  he,  am  I,  thus  to  lie  in  a  stinking  dungeon,  wheo9    tf 
I  may  as  well  walk  at  liberty  !     I  have  a     AkeyinChris.    V\ 
key  in  my  bosom,  called  Promise,  that  will,     tian's  bosom,          -  • 


I  am  persuaded,  open  anyTSSrin  Doubting     opens  any  kick  in 
Castle.     Then  said  Hopeful,  That's  good     Doubting  Castle  y^  p 
news  ;  good  brother,  pluck  it  out  of  thy  bosom,  and  try. 

Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom,  and  began  to   >\ 
try  at  the  dungeon-door,  whose  bolt,  as  he  turned  the  key, 

nd  the  door  flew  oen  with    ase   and  Christian      V 


and  Hopeful  both  came  out.  Then  he  went  to  the  out- 
ward docir  that  leads  inta  the  castle-yard;  and  with  his 
key  opened  that  door  also.  After  he  went  to  the  iron 
gate,  for  that  must  be  opened  too;  but  that  lock  went 
damnable  hard,  yet  the  key  did  open  it.  Then  they 
thrust  open  the  gate  to  make  their  escape  with  speed  ;  but 

125 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

that  gate,  as  it  opened,  made  such  a  cracking,  that  it  waked 
Giant  Despair,  who  hastily  rising  to  pursue  his  prisoners, 
felt  his  limbs  to  fail ;  for  his  fits  took  him  again,  so  that 
he  could  by  no  means  go  after  them.  Then  they  went  on, 
and  came  to  the  King's  highway,  and  so  were  safe,  because 
they  were  out  of  his  jurisdiction. 

Now  when  they  were  gone  over  the  stile,  they  began  to 
contrive  with  themselves  what  they  should  do  at  that  stile, 
to  prevent  those  that  shall  come  after  from  falling  into  the 
A  niar  erected  hands  of  Giant  Despair.  So  they  consented 
b/Christfan  Znd  to  erect  there  a  pillar,  and  to  engrave  upon 
the  side  thereof  this  sentence:  Over  this 
stile  is  the  way  to  Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant 
Despair,  who  despiseth  the  King  of  the  Celestial  Country, 
and  seeks  to  destroy  the  holy  pilgrims.  Many,  therefore, 
that  followed  after,  read  what  was  written,  and  escaped 
the  danger.  This  done,  they  sang  as  follows : 

Out  of  the  way  we  went,  and  then  we  found 
What  'twas  to  tread  upon  forbidden  ground: 
And  let  them  that  come  after  have  a  care, 
Lest  they  for  trespassing  his  pris'ners  are, 
Whose  castle's  Doubting,  and  whose  name's  Despair. 

They  went  then  till  they  came  to  the  Delectable  Moun- 
The  Delectable  tains,  which  mountains  belong  to  the  Lord 
Mountains  of  that  hill  of  which  we  have  spoken  before. 

So  they  went  up  to  the  mountains,  to  behold  the  gardens 
and  orchards,  the  vineyards  and  fountains  of  water ;  where 
also  they  drank  and  washed  themselves, 

1  ney  are  re-  •••«$»       1  r    \          •  i  -».T 

freshed  in  the  and  did  freely  eat  of  the  vineyards.     Now 

there  were  on  the  tops  of  these  mountains 
shepherds  feeding  their  flocks,  and  they  stood  by  the 
highwayside.  The  pilgrims,  therefore,  went  to  them,  and 
leaning  upon  their  staves  (as  is  common  with  weary  pilgrims 
Talks  with  the  when  they  stand  to  talk  with  any  by  the 
Shepherds  way),  they  asked,  Whose  delectable  moun- 

tains are  these,  and  whose  be  the  sheep  that  feed  upon 
them  ? 

Shep.     These  mountains  are  Emmanuel's  land,  and  they 

126 


THE  SHEPHERDS'  WELCOME 

are  within  sight  of  His  city ;  and  the  sheep  also  are  His, 
and  He  laid  down  His  life  for  them. 

Chr.     Is  this  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  ? 

Shep.     You  are  just  in  your  way. 

Chr.     How  far  is  it  thither  ? 

Shep.  Too  far  for  any  but  those  that  shall  get  thither 
indeed. 

Chr.     Is  the  way  safe,  or  dangerous  ? 

Shep.  Safe  for  those  for  whom  it  is  to  be  safe ;  but 
transgressors  shall  fall  therein. 

Chr.  Is  there  in  this  place  any  relief  for  pilgrims  that 
are  weary  and  faint  in  the  way  ? 

Shep.  The  Lord  of  these  mountains  hath  given  us  a 
charge  not  to  be  forgetful  to  entertain  strangers  :  therefore 
the  good  of  the  place  is  before  you. 

I  also  saw  in  my  dream,  that  when  the  Shepherds  per- 
ceived that  they  were  wayfaring  men,  they  also  put  questions 
to  them  (to  which  they  made  answer  as  in  other  places), 
as,  Whence  came  you  ?  and,  How  got  you  into  the  way  ? 
and,  By  what  means  have  you  so  persevered  therein  ?  for 
but  few  of  them  that  begin  to  come  hither,  do  show  their 
face  on  these  mountains.     But  when  the     The  Shepherds 
Shepherds    heard    their    answers,    being     welcome  them 
pleased  therewith,  they  looked  very  lovingly  upon  them, 
and  said,  Welcome  to  the  Delectable  Mountains. 

The  Shepherds,  I  say,  whose  names  were  Knowledge,Ex- 
perience,  Watchful,  and  Sincere,  took  them     The  names  of 
by  the  hand,  and  had  them  to  their  tents,     the  Shepherds 
and  made  them  partake  of  that  which  was  ready  at  present. 
They  said,  moreover,  We  would  that  you  should  stay  here 
a  while,  to  be  acquainted  with  us,  and  yet  more  to  solace 
yourselves  with  the  good  of  these  Delectable  Mountains. 
They  then  told  them,  that  they  were  content  to  stay.    And 
so  they  went  to  their  rest  that  night,  because  it  was  very  late. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  in  the  morning  the 
Shepherds  called  up  Christian  and  Hopeful  to  walk  with 
them  upon  the  mountains.  So  they  went  forth  with  them, 
and  walked  a  while,  having  a  pleasant  prospect  on  every 

127 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

side.      Then  said  the   Shepherds  one  to  another,  Shall 

They  are  shown  we    show    these    pilgrims    SOme    WOnderS  ? 

wonders  So  when  they  had   concluded   to  do  it, 

they  had  them  first  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  called  Error, 
The  mountain  which  was  very  steep  on  the  farthest  side, 
of  Error  and  foci  them  look  down  to  the  bottom.  So 

Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  down,  and  saw  at  the  bottom 
several  men  dashed  all  to  pieces  by  a  fall  that  they  had  from 
the  top.  Then  said  Christian,  What  meaneth  this  ?  The 
Shepherds  answered,  Have  you  not  heard  of  them  that 
were  made  to  err,  by  hearkening  to  Hymenseus  and 
Philetus,  as  concerning  the  faith  of  the  resurrection  of 
the  body  ?  They  answered,  Yes.  Then  said  the  Shep- 
herds, Those  that  you  see  lie  dashed  in  pieces  at  the 
bottom  of  this  mountain  are  they  ;  and  they  have  continued 
to  this  day  unburied,  as  you  see,  for  an  example  to  others 
to  take  heed  how  they  clamber  too  high,  or  how  they  come 
too  near  the  brink  of  this  mountain. 

Then  I  saw  that  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  another 

mountain,  and  the  name  of  that  is  Caution, 

and  bid  them  look  afar  off;  which,  when 

they  did,  they  perceived,  as  they  thought,  several  men 

walking  up  and  down  among  the  tombs  that  were  there ; 

and  they  perceived  that  the  men  were  blind,  because  they 

stumbled  sometimes  upon  the  tombs,  and  because  they 

could  not  get  out  from  among  them.     Then  said  Christian, 

What  meant  this  ? 

The  Shepherds  then  answered,  Did  you  not  see  a  little 
below  these  mountains  a  stile  that  led  into  a  meadow,  on 
the  left  hand  of  this  way  ?  They  answered,  Yes.  Then 
said  the  Shepherds,  From  that  stile  there  goes  a  path  that 
leads  directly  to  Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant 
Despair ;  and  these  men  (pointing  to  them  among  the 
tombs)  came  once  on  pilgrimage,  as  you  do  now,  even 
till  they  came  to  that  same  stile.  And  because  the  right 
way  was  rough  in  that  place,  they  chose  to  go  out  of  it 
into  that  meadow,  and  there  were  taken  by  Giant  Despair, 
and  cast  into  Doubting  Castle,  where,  after  they  had 

128 


THE    HILL    CALLED    ERROR 

They   had   them   first   to   the   top   of   the   hill,  called  Error,    which 

teas   very   steep   on    the   farthest   side,   and   bid    th?m 

Ivnk   down    to    the    bottom. 


A  BY-WAY  TO  HELL 

awhile  been  kept  in  the  dungeon,  he  at  last  "did  put 
out  their  eyes,  and  led  them  among  those  tombs, 
where  he  has  left  them  to  wander  to  this  very  day, 
that  the  saying  of  the  wise  man  might  be  fulfilled, 
He  that  wandereth  out  of  the  way  of  understand- 
ing shall  remain  in  the  congregation  of  the  dead. 
Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  upon  one  another, 
with  tears  gushing  out,  but  yet  said  nothing  to  the 
Shepherds. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Shepherds  had  them 
to  another  place  in  a  bottom,  where  was  a  door  in  the 
side  of  a  hill ;  and  they  opened  the  door,  and  bid  them 
look  in.  They  looked  in,  therefore,  and  saw  that  within 
it  was  very  dark  and  smoky ;  they  also  thought  that  they 
heard  there  a  rumbling  noise,  as  of  fire,  and  a  cry  of  some 
tormented,  and  that  they  smelt  the  scent  of  brimstone. 
Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ?  The  Shepherds 
told  them,  This  is  a  by-way  to  hell,  a  way 
that  hypocrites  go  in  at ;  namely,  such  as 
sell  their  birthright,  with  Esau ;  such  as  sell  their  Master, 
with  Judas;  such  as  blaspheme  the  gospel,  with  Alex- 
ander; and  that  lie  and  dissemble,  with  Ananias  and 
Sapphira  his  wife. 

Then  said  Hopeful  to  the  Shepherds,  I  perceive  that 
these  had  on  them,  even  every  one,  a  show  of  pilgrimage, 
as  we  have  now  ;  had  they  not  ? 

Shep.     Yea,  and  held  it  a  long  time  too. 

Hope.  How  far  might  they  go  on  in  pilgrimage  in 
their  day,  since  they,  notwithstanding,  were  thus  miserably 
cast  away  ? 

Shep.  Some  farther,  and  some  not  so  far  as  these 
mountains. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims  one  to  another,  We  have  need 
to  cry  to  the  Strong  for  strength. 

Shep.  Ay,  and  you  will  have  need  to  use  it,  when  you 
havo  it,  too. 

Bv  this  time  the  pilgrims  had  a  desire  to  go  forwards, 
and  vhe  Shepherds  a  desire  they  should ;  so  they  walked 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

together  towards  the  end  of  the  mountains.    Then  said  the 
0.     ,     .  ,        Shepherds  one  to  another,  Let  us  here  show 

The  Shepherds  .,      .  i  r     1       /-.   i        •   i 

perspective-  to  the  pilgrims  the  gates  or  the  Celestial 

City,  if  they  have  skill  to  look  through  our 

perspective-glass.     The  pilgrims  then   lovingly  accepted 

the  motion :  so  they  had  them  to  the  top 

of  a  high  hill,  called  Clear,  and  gave  them 

the  glass  to  look. 

Then  they  essayed  to  look  ;  but  the  remembrance  of  that 
The  fruits  of  last  thing  that  the  Shepherds  had  showed 

servile  fear  them  made  their  hands  shake,  by  means  of 

which  impediment  they  could  not  look  steadily  through 
the  glass,  yet  thought  they  saw  something  like  the  gate, 
and  also  some  of  the  glory  of  the  place.  Then  they 
went  away  and  sang  this  song : 

Thus  by  the  Shepherds  secrets  are  revealed, 
Which  from  all  other  men  are  kept  concealed : 
Come  to  the  Shepherds  then,  if  you  would  see 
Things  deep,  things  hid,  and  that  mysterious  be. 

When  they  were  about  to  depart,  one  of  the  Shepherds 

gave  them  a  note  of  the  way.     Another 

of  them  bid  them  beware  of  the  Flatterer. 

The  third  bid  them  take  heed  that  they  sleep  not  upon 

the  Enchanted  Ground.     And  the  fourth  bid  them  God 

speed.     So  I  awoke  from  my  dream. 

And  I  slept,  and  dreamed  again,  and  saw  the  same  two 
pilgrims  going  down  the  mountains  along  the  highway 
towards  the  city.  Now  a  little  below  these  mountains  on 
the  left  hand  lieth  the  country  of  Conceit ; 
of  from  which  country  there  comes  into  the 
which  came  wav  jn  which  the  pilgrims  walked,  a  litue 

Ignorance  , ,  "    &    ,  r 

crooked  lane.  Here,  therefore,  they  n.et 
with  a  very  brisk  lad,  that  came  out  of  that  country,  and 
Christian  and  ^s  name  was  Ignorance.  So  Christian 

ignorance  have         asked  him  from  what  parts  he  came,  and 

some  talk  t  •  i         i  • 

whither  he  was  going. 

Ignor.    Sir,  I  was  born  in  the  country  that  lieth  off  there, 
130 


FOLLY  OF  IGNORANCE 

a  little  on  the  left  hand,  and  am  going  to  the  Celestial 
City. 

Chr.  But  how  do  you  think  to  get  in  at  the  gate,  for 
you  may  find  some  difficulty  there  ? 

Ignor.     As  other  good  people  doth,  saith  he. 

Chr.  But  what  have  you  to  show  at  that  gate,  that 
may  cause  that  the  gate  should  be  opened  to  you  ? 

Ignor.     I  know  my  Lord's  will,  and  have  been  a  good 
liver :  I  pay  every  man  his  own  ;  I  pray,     The  Bounds  of 
fast,  pay  tithes,  and  give  alms,  and  have     ignorance's  hope 
left  my  country  for  whither  I  am  going. 

Chr.  But  thou  earnest  not  in  at  the  Wicket-gate  that 
is  at  the  head  of  this  way ;  thou  earnest  in  hither  through 
that  same  crooked  lane,  and  therefore  I  fear,  however 
thou  mayest  think  of  thyself,  when  the  reckoning-day 
shall  come,  thou  wilt  have  laid  to  thy  charge  that  thou 
art  a  thief  and  a  robber,  instead  of  getting  admittance  into 
the  city. 

Ignor.  Gentlemen,  ye  be  utter  strangers  to  me;  I 
know  you  not :  be  content  to  follow  the  He  teiieth  every 
religion  of  your  country,  and  I  will  follow  one  he  is  but  a  fool 
the  religion  of  mine.  I  hope  all  will  be  well.  And  as  for 
the  gate  that  you  talk  of,  all  the  world  knows  that  that  is 
a  great  way  off  of  our  country.  I  cannot  think  that  any 
man  in  all  our  parts  doth  so  much  as  know  the  way  to  it ; 
nor  need  they  matter  whether  they  do  or  no,  since  we 
have,  as  you  see,  a  fine,  pleasant,  green  lane,  that  comes 
down  from  our  country,  the  next  way  into  the  way. 

When  Christian  saw  that  the  man  was  wise  in  his  own 
conceit,  he  said  to  Hopeful,  whisperingly,  There  is  more 
hopes  of  a  fool  than  of  him.  And  said,  moreover,  When 
he  that  is  a  fool  walketh  by  the  way,  his  wisdom  faileth 
him,  and  he  saith  to  every  one  that  he  is  a  fool.  What, 
shall  we  talk  further  with  him,  or  outgo  HO-^- to  carry  it  to 
him  at  present,  and  so  leave  him  to  think  a  fool 
of  what  he  hath  heard  already,  and  then  stop  again  for 
him  afterwards,  and  see  if  by  degrees  we  can  do  any 
good  by  him  ?  Then  said  Hopeful, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Let  Ignorance  a  little  while  now  muse 

On  what  is  said,  and  let  him  not  refuse 

Good  counsel  to  embrace,  lest  he  remain 

Still  ignorant  of  what's  the  chiefest  gain. 

God  saith,  those  that  no  understanding  have, 

(Although  He  made  them,)  them  He  will  not  save. 

Hope.  He  further  added,  It  is  not  good,  I  think,  to 
say  to  him  all  at  once ;  let  us  pass  him  by,  if  you  will,  and 
talk  to  him  anon,  even  as  he  is  able  to  bear  it. 

So  they  both  went  on,  and  Ignorance  he  came  after. 
Now  when  they  had  passed  him  a  little  way,  they  entered 
into  a  very  dark  lane,  where  they  met  a  man  whom  seven 
devils  had  bound  with  seven  strong  cords,  and  were  carry- 
ing him  back  to  the  door  that  they  saw  on  the  side 
of  the  hill.  Now  good  Christian  began  to  tremble,  and 
so  did  Hopeful,  his  companion;  yet,  as  the  devils  led 
away  the  man,  Christian  looked  to  see  if  he  knew  him  -,  and 
he  thought  it  might  be  one  Turn-away,  that  dwelt  in  the 
The  destruction  of  town  of  Apostacy.  But  he  did  not  perfectly 

one  Turn-away  see    J^g    face>    fQr    fa     ^id    fang    his    head 

like  a  thief  that  is  found  ;  but  being  gone  past,  Hopeful 
looked  after  him,  and  espied  on  his  back  a  paper, 
with  this  inscription,  Wanton  professor,  and  damnable 
apostate. 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Now  I  call  to  re- 
membrance that  which  was  told  me  of  a 
thing  that  happened  to  a  good  man  here- 
Jtory  of  Little-  about.  The  name  of  the  man  was  Little- 
Faith  ;  but  a  good  man,  and  he  dwelt  in  the 
town  of  Sincere.  The  thing  was  this.  At  the  entering  in 
of  this  passage,  there  comes  down  from  Broadway-gate  a 
Broadway-gate  lane,  called  Dead-man's-lane ;  so  called, 
Dead-man's-iane  because  of  the  murders  that  are  commonly 
done  there ;  and  this  Little-Faith,  going  on  pilgrimage,  as 
we  do  now,  chanced  to  sit  down  there  and  sleep.  Now 
there  happened  at  that  time  to  come  down  the  lane  from 
Broadway-gate,  three  sturdy  rogues,  and  their  names  were 
Faint-heart,  Mistrust  and  Guilt,  three  brothers  5  and  they 
espying  Little-Faith,  where  he  was,  came  galloping  up  with 

132 


LITTLE-FAITH'S  TROUBLES 

speed.    Now  the  good  man  was  just  awaked  from  his  sleep, 

and  was  getting  up  to  go  on  his  journey.    So  they  came  up 

all  to  him,  and  with  threatening  language  bid  him  stand. 

At  this,  Little-Faith  looked  as  white  as  a  clout,  and  had 

neither  power  to  fight  nor  fly.     Then  said 

Faint-heart,  Deliver   thy   purse;    but   he 

making  no  haste  to  do  it  (for  he  was  loth     Jf^"15*' and 

to  lose  his  money),  Mistrust  ran  up  to  him, 

and  thrusting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  pulled  out  thence 

a   bag   of    silver.      Then   he   cried   out,     -, 

__,  .    &  ,  .  ,       _TT.   ,       ,          ._  They  got  away  his 

Thieves,  thieves  !  With  that  Guilt,  with  silver,  and 
a  great  club  that  was  in  his  hand,  struck 
Little-Faith  on  the  head,  and  with  that  blow  felled  him 
flat  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  bleeding  as  one  that  would 
bleed  to  death.  All  this  while  the  thieves  stood  by.  But 
at  last,  they  hearing  that  some  were  upon  the  road,  and 
Bearing  lest  it  should  be  one  Great-Grace,  that  dwells  in 
the  city  of  Good-Confidence,  they  betook  themselves  to 
their  heels,  and  left  this  good  man  to  shift  for  himself, 
who,  getting  up,  made  shift  to  scramble  on  his  way.  This 
was  the  story. 

Hope.  But  did  they  take  from  him  all  that  ever  he 
had? 

Chr.  No ;  the  place  where  his  jewels  were  they  never 
ransacked  ;  so  those  he  kept  still.  But,  as  I  Little-Faith  lost 
was  told,  the  good  man  was  much  afflicted  not  his  best  things 
for  his  loss  ;  for  the  thieves  got  most  of  his  spending-money. 
That  which  they  got  not  (as  I  said)  were  jewels  ;  also  he 
had  a  little  odd  money  left,  but  scarce  enough  to  bring 
him  to  his  journey's  end.  Nay  (if  I  was  T ...,  ,,  .., 

.    .     r  i\      i  c  it  Llttle-raitn 

not  misinformed),  he  was  forced  to  beg  as     forced  to  beg-  to 
he   went,  to  keep  himself  alive,  for   his 
jewels  he  might  not  sell;  but  beg  and  do  what  he  could, 
he  went  (as  we  say)  with  many  a  hungry  belly  the  most 
part  of  the  rest  of  the  way. 

Hope.  But  is  it  not  a  wonder  they  got  not  from  him  his 
certificate,  by  which  he  was  to  receive  his  admittance  at 
the  Celestial  Gate  ? 

i  as 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.  'Tis  a  wonder;  but  they  got  not  that,  though  they 
„  missed  it  not  through  any  good  cunning 

rie  kept  not  nis  /•  i  •          r        i        i     •  i»  i        •  i       i     • 

best  things  by  his  or  his  ;  for  he  being  dismayed  with  their 
coming  upon  him,  had  neither  power  nor 
skill  to  hide  anything  :  so  'twas  more  by  good  providence 
than  by  his  endeavour  that  they  missed  of  that  good 
thing. 

Hope.  But  it  must  needs  be  a  comfort  to  him  that  they 
got  not  his  jewels  from  him. 

Chr.  It  might  have  been  great  comfort  to  him,  had  he 
used  it  as  he  should  ;  but  they  that  told  me  the  story  said, 
that  he  made  but  little  use  of  it  all  the  rest  of  the  way,  and 
that  because  of  the  dismay  that  he  had  in  the  taking  away 
his  money.  Indeed  he  forgot  it  a  great  part  of  the  rest  of 
his  journey ;  and  besides,  when  at  any  time  it  came  into 
his  mind,  and  he  began  to  be  comforted  therewith,  then 
would  fresh  thoughts  of  his  loss  come  again  upon  him,  and 
those  thoughts  would  swallow  up  all. 
He  is  pitied  by  Hope.  Alas,  poor  man,  this  could  not 

both  but  be  a  great  grief  unto  him. 

Chr.  Grief?  Ay,  a  grief  indeed  !  Would  it  not  have 
been  so  to  any  of  us,  had  we  been  used  as  he,  to  be  robbed 
and  wounded  too,  and  that  in  a  strange  place,  as  he  was  ? 
'Tis  a  wonder  he  did  not  die  with  grief,  poor  heart.  I 
was  told  that  he  scattered  almost  all  the  rest  of  the  way 
with  nothing  but  doleful  and  bitter  complaints  ;  telling  also 
to  all  that  overtook  him,  or  that  he  overtook  in  the  way  as 
he  went,  where  he  was  robbed,  and  how ;  who  they  were 
that  did  it,  and  what  he  lost ;  how  he  was  wounded,  and 
that  he  hardly  escaped  with  life. 

Hope.  But  'tis  a  wonder  that  his  necessity  did  not  put 
him  upon  selling  or  pawning  some  of  his  jewels,  that  he 
might  have  wherewith  to  relieve  himself  in  his  journey. 

Chr.     Thou  talkest  like  one  upon  whose  head  is  the 

Christian snibbeth       she11  tO  this  Vei7  d*?'     F°r  what  sh°uld  he 

hjsfeiiowforunad-     pawnthem?  or  to  whom  shouldhe  sell  them? 

In  all  that  country  where  he  was  robbed, 

his  jewels  were  not  accounted  of;  nor  did  he  want  that  relief 

134 


DISCOURSE  ON  LITTLE-FAITH 

which  could  from  thence  be  administered  to  him.  Besides, 
had  his  jewels  been  missing  at  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  City, 
he  had  (and  that  he  knew  well  enough)  been  excluded  from 
an  inheritance  there,  and  that  would  have  been  worse 
to  him  than  the  appearance  and  villainy  of  ten  thousand 
thieves. 

Hope.  Why  art  thou  so  tart,  my  brother  ?  Esau  sold 
his  birthright,  and  that  for  a  mess  of  pottage ;  and  that 
birthright  was  his  greatest  jewel ;  and  if  he,  why  might 
not  Little-Faith  do  so  too  ? 

Chr.     Esau  did  sell  his  birthright  indeed,  and  so  do 
many  besides,  and  by  so  doing  exclude     A  discourse  about 
themselves  from  the  chief  blessing,  as  also     Esau  and  Littie- 
that  caitiff  did  ;  but  you  must  put  a  differ- 
ence betwixt  Esau  and  Little-Faith,  and  also  betwixt  their 
estates.     Esau's  birthright  was  typical ;  but  Little-Faith's 
jewels  were  not  so.     Esau's  belly  was  his     Esau  was  ruled 
god;  but  Little-Faith's  belly  was  not  so.     by  his  lusts 
Esau's  want  lay  in  his  fleshly  appetite ;  Little-Faith's  did 
not  so.     Besides,  Esau  could  see  no  further  than  to  the 
fulfilling  of  his  lusts ;    For  I  am  at  the  point  to  die, 
said   he ;   and  what   good  will   this   birthright  do   me  ? 
But  Little-Faith,  though  it  was  his  lot   to  have  but  a 
little  faith,  was  by  his  little  faith  kept  from  such  extrava- 
gances, and  made  to  see  and  prize  his  jewels  more  than  to 
sell  them,  as  Esau  did  his  birthright.     You  read  not  any- 
where that  Esau  had  faith,  no,  not  so  much     Esau  never  had 
as  a  little  ;  therefore  no  marvel,  if,  where     faith 
the  flesh  only  bears  sway  (as  it  will  in  that  man  where  no 
faith  is  to  resist),  if  he  sells  his  birthright,  and  his  soul 
and  all,  and   that  to  the  devil  of  hell ;   for  it  is  with 
such  as  it  is  with  the  ass,  who  in  her  occasion  cannot 
be  turned  away.     When  their  minds  are  set  upon  their 
lust,  they  will  have  them,  whatever  they  cost :  but  Little- 
Faith  was  of  another  temper ;  his  mind  was     T ....  ~  ,. 

...  ,  .     i.       1.1          i  J-ittle-r  aitn  could 

on  things  divine  ;  his  livelihood  was  upon     not  live  upon 

things    that    were    spiritual    and    above ; 

therefore  to  what  end  should  he  that  is  of  such  a  temper 

135 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

sell  His  jewels  (had  there  been  any  that  would  have  bought 
them), 'to  fill  his  mind  with  empty  things?     Will  a  man 
give  a  penny  to  fill  his  belly  with  hay?  or  can  you  per- 
suade the  turtle-dove  to  live  upon  carrion, 

A  comparison  be-  _       ,__  r  •  i_  1 

tween  the  turtle-  like  the  crow  r  1  hough  faithless  ones 
can,  for  carnal  lusts,  pawn,  or  mortgage, 
or  sell  'what  they  have,  and  themselves  outright  to  boot ; 
yet  they  that  have  faith,  saving  faith,  though  but  a  little 
of  it,  cannot  do  so.  Here,  therefore,  my  brother,  is  thy 
mistake. 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  it;  but  yet  your  severe  reflection 
had  almost  made  me  angry. 

Chr.  Why,  I  did  but  compare  thee  to  some  of  the  birds 
that  are  of  the  brisker  sort,  who  will  run  to  and  fro  in 
untrodden  paths  with  the  shell  upon  their  heads  :  but  pass 
by  that,  and  consider  the  matter  under  debate,  and  all  shall 
be  well  betwixt  thee  and  me. 

Hope.  But,  Christian,  these  three  fellows,  I  am  per- 
__  . .  suaded  in  my  heart,  are  but  a  company  of 

Hopeful  swaggers  ,  1111  i!«    i 

cowards  :  would  they  have  run  else,  think 
you,  as  they  did  at  the  noise  of  one  that  was  coming  on 
the  road  ?  Why  did  not  Little-Faith  pluck  up  a  greater 
heart  ?  He  might,  methinks,  have  stood  one  brush 
with  them,  and  have  yielded  when  there  had  been  no 
remedy. 

Chr.  That  they  are  cowards,  many  have  said,  but  few 
NO  ereat  heart  for  |?ave  f°™d  it  so  in  the  time  of  trial.  As 
God  where  there  is  for  a  great  heart,  Little-Faith  hath  none  ; 

but  little  faith  ,T  •         «         «  i          i  11 

and  I  perceive  by  thee,  my  brother,  hadst 
thou  been  the  man  concerned,  thou  art  but  for  a  brush,  and 
then  to  yield.  And,  verily,  since  this  is  the  height  of  thy 
stomach  now  they  are  at  a  distance  from 
us,  should  they  appear  to  thee,  as  they 
did  to  him,  they  might  put  thee  to  second 
thoughts. 

But  consider  again,  they  are  but  journeymen  thieves ; 
they  serve  under  the  king  of  the  bottomless  pit,  who,  if 
need  be,  will  come  in  to  their  aid  himself,  and  his 

136 


DISCOURSE  ON  LITTLE-FAITH 

voice  is  as  the  roaring  of  a  lion.  I  myself  have  been 
engaged  as  this  Little-Faith  was,  and  t  found  it  a  terrible 
thing  These  three  villains  set  upon  me,  Christian  tells  his 
and  1  beginning  like  a  Christian  to  resist,  own  experience 
they  gave  but  a  call,  and  in  came  their 
master.  I  would  (as  the  saying  is)  have  given  my  life  for 
a  penny,  but  that,  as  God  would  have  it,  I  was  clothed 
with  armour  of  proof.  Ay,  and  yet,  though  I  was  so 
harnessed,  I  found  it  hard  work  to  quit  myself  like  a  man  ; 
no  man  can  tell  what  in  that  combat  attends  us,  but  he 
that  hath  been  in  the  battle  himself. 

Hope.  Well,  but  they  ran,  you  see,  when  they  did 
but  suppose  that  one  Great-Grace  was  in  the  way. 

Chr.  True,  they  have  often  fled,  both  they  and  their 
master,  when  Great-Grace  hath  but  appeared;  and  no 
marvel,  for  he  is  the  King's  champion.  The  King's  cham- 
But  I  trow,  you  will  put  some  difference  Pion 
between  Little-Faith  and  the  King's  champion.  All  the 
King's  subjects  are  not  His  champions  ;  nor  can  they,  when 
tried,  do  such  feats  of  war  as  he.  Is  it  meet  to  think  that 
a  little  child  should  handle  Goliath  as  David  did  ?  or  that 
there  should  be  the  strength  of  an  ox  in  a  wren  ?  Some 
are  strong,  some  are  weak ;  some  have  great  faith,  some 
have  little :  this  man  was  one  of  the  weak,  and  therefore 
went  to  the  walls. 

Hope.  I  would  it  had  been  Great-Grace  for  their 
sakes. 

Chr.  If  it  had  been  he,  he  might  have  had  his  hands  full;' 
for  I  must  tell  you,  that  though  Great-Grace  is  excellent 
good  at  his  weapon,  and  has,  and  can,  so  long  as  he 
keeps  them  at  sword's  point,  do  well  enough  with  them ; 
yet  if  they  get  within  him,  even  Faint-heart,  Mistrust  or 
the  other,  it  shall  go  hard  but  that  they  will  throw  up 
his  heels.  And  when  a  man  is  down,  you  know,  what 
can  he  do  ? 

Whoso  looks  well  upon  Great-Grace's  face,  shall  see 
those  scars  and  cuts  there,  that  shall  easily  give  de- 
monstration of  what  I  say.  Yea,  once  I  heard  that  he 

137 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

should  say  (and  that  when  he  was  in  the  combat),  "We 
despaired  even  of  life.  How  did  these  sturdy  rogues 
and  their  fellows  make  David  groan,  mourn,  and  roar ! 
Yea,  Heman,  and  Hezekiah  too,  though  champions  in 
their  days,  were  forced  to  bestir  them,  when  by  these 
assaulted ;  and  yet,  notwithstanding,  they  had  their 
coats  soundly  brushed  by  them.  Peter,  upon  a  time, 
would  go  try  what  he  could  do ;  but  though  some  do 
say  of  him  that  he  is  the  prince  of  the  apostles,  they 
handled  him  so  that  they  made  him  at  last  afraid  of  a 
sorry  girl. 

Besides,  their  king  is  at  their  whistle ;  he  is  never  out 
of  hearing ;  and  if  at  any  time  they  be  put  to  the  worst, 
he,  if  possible,  comes  in  to  help  them ;  and  of  him  it  is 
Leriathan's  said,  The  sword  of  him  that  layeth  at 

sturdiness  fam  cannot  hold  ;  the  spear,  the  dart,  nor 

the  habergeon.  He  esteemeth  iron  as  straw,  and  brass  as 
rotten  wood.  The  arrow  cannot  make  him  fly ;  sling- 
stones  are  turned  with  him  into  stubble.  Darts  are 
counted  as  stubble ;  he  laugheth  at  the  shaking  of  a 
spear.  What  can  a  man  do  in  this  case  ?  'Tis  true, 
if  a  man  could  at  every  turn  have  Job's  horse,  and 
had  skill  and  courage  to  ride  him,  he  might  do  notable 
The  excellent  things.  For  his  neck  is  clothed  with 

mettle  that  is  in  thunder.  He  will  not  be  afraid  as  the 
grasshopper :  the  glory  of  his  nostrils  is 
terrible.  He  paweth  in  the  valley,  rejoiceth  in  his 
strength,  and  goeth  out  to  meet  the  armed  men.  He 
mocketh  at  fear,  and  is  not  affrighted,  neither  turneth 
back  from  the  sword.  The  quiver  rattleth  against  him, 
the  glittering  spear  and  the  shield.  He  swallows  the 
ground  with  fierceness  and  rage;  neither  believes  he 
that  it  is  the  sound  of  the  trumpet.  He  says  among 
the  trumpets,  Ha,  ha;  and  he  smelleth  the  battle 
afar  off,  the  thundering  of  the  captains,  and  the  , 
shoutings. 

But  for  such  footmen  as  thee  and  I  are,  let  us  never 
desire  to  meet  with  an  enemy,  nor  vaunt  as  if  we  could  do 

vfl 


DISCOURSE  ON  LITTLE-FAITH 

better,  when  we  hear  of  others  that  they  have  been  foiled, 
nor  be  tickled  at  the  thoughts  of  our  own  manhood ;  for  such 
commonly  come  by  the  worst  when  tried.  Witness  Peter, 
of  whom  I  made  mention  before ;  he  would  swagger,  ay, 
he  would ;  he  would,  as  his  vain  mind  prompted  him  to 
say,  do  better,  and  stand  more  for  his  Master,  than  all 
men ;  but,  who  so  foiled  and  run  down  by  these  villains 
as  he  ? 

When,  therefore,  we  hear  that  such  robberies  are  done 
on  the  King's  highway,  two  things  become  us  to  do. 

First,  to  go  out  harnessed,  and  to  be  sure  to  take  a  shield 
with  us ;  for  it  was  for  want  of  that,  that  he  that  laid  so 
lustily  at  Leviathan  could  not  make  him  yield  ;  for,  indeed, 
if  that  be  wanting,  he  fears  us  not  at  all.  Therefore  he 
that  had  skill  hath  said,  Above  all,  take  the  shield  of 
faith,  wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the  fiery 
darts  of  the  wicked. 

'Tis  good,  also,  that  we  desire  of  the  King  a  convoy, 
yea,  that  He  will  go  with  us  Himself.  Tis  good  to  have 
This  made  David  rejoice  when  in  the  a  convoy 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  ;  and  Moses  was  rather 
for  dying  where  he  stood,  than  to  go  one  step  without 
his  God.  O  my  brother,  if  He  will  but  go  along  with 
us,  what  need  we  be  afraid  of  ten  thousands  that  shall 
set  themselves  against  us  ?  But  without  Him,  the  proud 
helpers  fall  under  the  slain. 

I,  for  my  part,  have  been  in  the  fray  before  now ;  and 
though  (through  the  goodness  of  Him  that  is  best)  I  am, 
as  you  see,  alive,  yet  I  cannot  boast  of  any  manhood.  Glad 
shall  I  be  if  I  meet  with  no  more  such  brunts ;  though  I 
fear  we  are  not  got  beyond  all  danger.  However,  since 
the  lion  and  the  bear  have  not  as  yet  devoured  me,  I  hope 
God  will  also  deliver  us  from  the  next  uncircumcised 
Philistines.  Then  sang  Christian, 

Poor  Little-Faith  I    hast  been  among  the  thieves? 
Wast  robbed  ?     Remember  this,  whoso  believes, 
And  get  more  faith  ;   then  shall  you  victors  be. 
Over  ten  thousand,  else  scarce  over  three. 
129 


/       THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

So  they  went  on,  and  Ignorance  followed.     They  went 
then  till  they  came  at  a  place  where  they 

A  way  and  a  way  J        .        ,r.  ,     . 

saw  a  way  put  itself  into  their  way,  and 
seemed  withal  to  lie  as  straight  as  the  way  which  they 
should  go ;  and  here  they  knew  not  which  of  the  two  to 
take,  for  both  seemed  straight  before  them ;  therefore 
here  they  stood  still  to  consider.  And  as  they  were  think- 
ing about  the  way,  behold,  a  man  black  of  flesh,  but  covered 
The  Flatterer  with  a  very  light  robe,  came  to  them, 
finds  them  an(j  askecj  them  why  they  stood  there. 

They  answered,  they  were  going  to  the  Celestial  City, 
but  knew  not  which  of  these  ways  to  take.  Follow 
me,  said  the  man ;  it  is  thither  that  I  am  going.  So 
they  followed  him  in  the  way  that  but  now  came  into 
Christian  and  his  the  road,  which  by  degrees  turned,  and 
fellow  deluded  turned  them  so  from  the  city  that  they 

desired  to  go  to,  that  in  a  little  time  their  faces  were  turned 
away  from  it  •,  yet  they  followed  him.  But  by  and  by, 
They  are  taken  in  before  they  were  aware,  he  led  them  both 
a  net  within  the  compass  of  a  net,  in  which  they 

were  both  so  entangled  that  they  knew  not  what  to  do ; 
and  with  that  the  white  robe  fell  off  the  black  man's  back. 
Then  they  saw  where  they  were.  Wherefore  there  they 
lay  crying  some  time,  for  they  could  not  get  themselves 
out. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Now  do  I  see 
They  bewail  their  myself  in  an  error.  Did  not  the  Shepherds 
condition  bid  us  beware  of  the  Flatterers  ?  As  is  the 

saying  of  the  wise  man,  so  we  have  found  it  this  day :  A 
man  that  flattereth  his  neighbour  spreadeth  a  net  for  his  foot. 

Hope.  They  also  gave  us  a  note  of  directions  about 
the  way,  for  our  more  sure  finding  thereof;  but  therein 
we  have  also  forgotten  to  read,  and  have  not  kept  ourselves 
from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer.  Here  David  was  wiser 
than  we ;  for,  saith  he,  Concerning  the  works  of  men,  by 
the  word  of  Thy  lips  I  have  kept  me  from  the  paths 
of  the  destroyer.  Thus  they  lay  bewailing  themselves 
in  the  net.  At  last  they  espied  a  Shining  One  coming 

1.40 


ENTANGLED    IN    THE     NET 

A.t    last    they    espied   a   Shining    One   coming    toicards    them    with 
a   whip    of   small   cord   in   Ma   hana. 


A  SHINING  ONE 

toward   them   with  a   whip  of  small  cord  in  his  hand. 
When  he  was  come  to  the  place  where      .  c, . 

A  Shining  One 

they  were,  he  asked  them  whence  they     comes  to  them  with 
came,  and  what  they  did  there.    They  told 
him  that  they  were  poor  pilgrims  going  to  Zion,  but  were 
led  out  of  their  way  by  a  black  man  clothed  in  white, 
who  bid  us,  said   they,  follow  him,   for  he  was  going 
thither    too.       Then    said    he  with   the    whip,   It    is    a 
Flatterer,  a  false  apostle,  that  hath  transformed  himself 
into  an  angel  of  light.     So  he  rent  the  net,  and  let  the 
men  out.     Then  said  he  to  them,  Follow  me,  that  I  may 
set  you  in  your  way  again.     So  he  led  them  back  to  the 
way  which  they  had  left  to  follow  the  Flatterer.     Then  he 
asked  them,  saying,  Where  did  you  lie  the 
last  night?    They  said,  With  the  Shepherds     **Sff&^ 
upon  the  Delectable  Mountain.    He  asked     victedofforgetfui- 
them  then  if  they  had  not  a  note  of  those 
Shepherds  of  direction  for  the   way.      They  answered, 
Yes.     But  did  you,  said  he,  when  you  were  at  a  stand, 
pluck  out  and  read  your  note  ?    They  answered,  No.     He 
asked  them,  Why  ?     They  said  they  forgot.     He  asked, 
moreover,  if  the  Shepherds  did  not  bid  them  beware  of 
the  Flatterer.     They  answered,  Yes;  but     Deceivers  fine 
we  did  not  imagine,  said  they,  that  this     spoken 
fine-spoken  man  had  been  he. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  he  commanded  them  to 
fie    down;    which    when    they    did,    he     Theyarewhi     d, 
chastised  them   sore,   to  teach  them  the     and  sent  on  their 
good   way   wherein    they    should   walk ; 
and  as  he  chastised  them,  he  said,  As  many  as  I  love  I 
rebuke  and  chasten ;  be   zealous,  therefore,  and  repent. 
This  done,  he  bids  them  go  on  their  way,  and  take  good 
heed  to  the  other  directions  of  the  Shepherds.     So  they 
thanked  him  for  all  his  kindness,  and  went  softly  along 
the  right  way,  singing  : 

Come  hither,  you  that  walk  along  the  way, 
See  how  the  pilgrims  fare  that  go  astray: 
They  catched  are  in  an  entangling  net, 
'Cause  they  good  counsel  lightly  did  forget 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Tis  true  they  rescued  were ;    but  yet,  you  see, 
They're  scourged  to  boot :   let  this  your  caution  be. 

Now  after  a  while  they  perceived  afar  off  one  coming 
softly,  and  alone,  all  along  the  highway  to  meet  them. 
Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Yonder  is  a  man 
with  his  back  towards  Zion,  and  he  is  coming  to 
meet  us. 

Hope.  I  see  him ;  let  us  take  heed  to  ourselves  now, 
The  Atheist  meets  lest  he  should  prove  a  flatterer  also.  So 
them  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  last  came 

up  unto  them.     His  name  was  Atheist,  and  he  asked  them 
whither  they  were  going. 

Chr.     "We  are  going  to  the  Mount  Zion. 

Then  Atheist   fell   into   a  very   great 

He  laughs  at  them        ,  *     ° 

laughter. 

Chr.     What's  the  meaning  of  your  laughter  ? 

Atheist.     I  laugh  to  see  what  ignorant  persons  you  are, 
to  tak«  upon  you  so  tedious  a  journey,  and  yet  are  like  to 
have  nothing  but  your  travel  for  your  pains. 
They  reason  Chr.     Why,  man,  do  you  think  we  shall 

together  not  be  received  ? 

Atheist.  Received !  There  is  not  such  place  as  you 
dream  of  in  all  this  world. 

Chr.     But  there  is  in  the  world  to  come. 

Atheist.  When  I  was  at  home  in  mine  own  country, 
I  heard  as  you  now  affirm,  and  from  that  hearing  went 
out  to  see,  and  have  been  seeking  this  city  twenty 
years,  but  find  no  more  of  it  than  I  did  the  first  day  I 
set  out. 

Chr.  We  have  both  heard,  and  believe,  that  there  is 
such  a  place  to  be  found. 

Atheist.     Had  not  I,  when  at  home,  believed,  I  had 

The  Atheist  takes      nOt  COme   thuS    faf  tO    SGek  »     but    finding 

up  his  content  in  none  (and  yet  I  should,  had  there  been 
such  a  place  to  be  found,  for  I  have  gone 
to  seek  it  farther  than  you),  I  am  going  back  again,  and 
will  seek  to  refresh  myself  with  the  things  that  I  then  cast 
away  for  hopes  of  that  which  I  now  see  is  not. 

142 


THE  ENCHANTED  GROUND 

Chr.     Then    said    Christian    to    Hopeful    his    com- 
panion,  Is   it   true   which  this   man   has     Christian  pro- 
said  ?  voketh  his  brother 

Hope.  Take  heed,  he  is  one  of  the  flatterers.  Re- 
member what  it  has  cost  us  once  already  Hopeful's  gracious 
for  our  hearkening  to  such  kind  of  fellows,  answer 
What !  No  Mount  Zion  ?  Did  we  not  see  from  the 
Delectable  Mountains  the  gate  of  the  city  ?  Also,  are  we 
not  now  to  walk  by  faith  ?  Let  us  go  on,  said  Hopeful, 
lest  the  man  wit3^  the  whip  overtake  us 

._  i         t  i    i  i  i  •"•  remembrance  of 

again.     You  should  nave  taught  me  that     former chastise- 
lesson,  which  I  will  round  you  in  the  ears     againVtSp*esent 
withal:  Cease,  my  son,  to   hear  the  in-     temptations 
struction  that  causeth  to  err  from  the  words  of  knowledge, 
I  say,  my  brother,  cease  to  hear  him,  and  let  us  believe  to 
the  saving  of  the  soul. 

Chr.  My  brother,  I  did  not  put  the  question  to  thee, 
for  that  I  doubted  of  the  truth  of  our  belief  myself,  but 
to  prove  thee,  and  to  fetch  from  thee  a  A  fruit  of  an  honest 
fruit  of  the  honesty  of  thy  heart.  As  for  heart 
this  man,  I  know  that  he  is  blinded  by  the  god  of  this 
world.  Let  thee  and  I  go  on,  knowing  that  we  have 
belief  of  tfie  truth,  and  no  lie  is  of  the  truth. 

Hope.  Now  do  I  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  Go<4- 
So  they  turned  away  from  the  man,  and  he,  laughing  at 
them,  went  his  way. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  till  they 
came   into  a  certain  country,   whose    air     They  ^  come  to 
naturally   tended    to   make   one    drowsy,     the  Enchanted 
if  he  came  a  stranger  into  it.     And  here 
Hopeful  began  to  be  very  dull,  and  heavy  of  sleep  ;  where- 
fore he  said  unto  Christian,  I  now  begin     Hopeful  begins  to 
to  grow  so  drowsy,  that  I  can  scarcely  hold     be  dropsy 
up  mine  eyes  ;  let  us  lie  down  here,  and  take  one  nap. 

Chr.     By  no  means,  said  the  other,  lest     Christian  keeps 
sleeping  we  never  awake  more.  him  awake 

Hope.  Why,  my  brother  ?  sleep  is  sweet  to  the  labour- 
ing man ;  we  may  be  refreshed  if  we  take  a  nap. 

143 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.  Do  you  not  remember  that  one  of  the  Shepherds  bid 
us  beware  of  the  Enchanted  Ground  ?  He  meant  by  that,  that 
we  should  beware  of  sleeping ;  wherefore  let  us  not  sleep 
as  do  others,  but  let  us  watch  and  be  sober. 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  myself  in  a  fault;  and  had  I  been 
here  alone,  I  had  by  sleeping  run  the  danger 

He  is  thankful  c  ,        ,          T  .    J. 

of  death.     I  see  it  is  true  that  the  wise  man 
„,  .  .  saith,  Two  are  better  than  one.    Hitherto 

To  prevent  drowsi-      •       t      i  11 

ness,  they  fall  to        hath  thy  company  been  my  mercy ;  and  thou 
&00<  shalt  have  a  good  reward  for  thy  labour. 

Good  discourse  Chn     Now?    the^    sai.d    Christian,    to 

prevents  prevent  drowsiness  in   this  place,  let   us 

fall  into  good  discourse. 

Hope.     With  all  my  heart,  said  the  other. 

Chr.     Where  shall  we  begin  ? 

Hope.  Where  God  began  with  us.  But  do  you  begin, 
if  you  please. 

Chr.     I  will  sing  you  first  this  song. 

When  saints  do  sleepy  grow,  let  them  come  hjther, 
And  hear  how  these  two  pilgrims  talk  together:' 
Yea,  let  them  learn  of  them  in  any  wise,    > 
Thus  to  keep  ope  their  drowsy,  slumb'ring  eyes. 
Saints'  fellowship,  if  it  be  managed  well,  •  —3 

Keeps  them  awake^  and  that  in  spite  of  hell., 

They  begin  at  the          C,hr-     Then  Christian  began,  and  said, . 

beginning  of  their      I  will  ask  you  a  question.     How  came  you 

to  think  at  £rst  of  doing  what  you  do  now  ? 

Hope.  Do  you  mean,  how  came  I  at  first  to  look  after 
the  good  of  my  soul  ? 

Chr.     Yes,  that  is  my  meaning.    . 

Hope.  I  continued  a  great  while  in  the  delight  of  those- 
things  which  were  seen  and  sold  at  our  fair ;  things  whicji 
I  believe  now  would  have,  had  I  continue"d  in  them  still, 
drowned  me  in  perdition  and  destruction. 

Chr.     What  things  are  they  ? 

Hope.  All  the  treasures  and  riches  of  the  worldv 
Also  I  delighted  much  in  riotiqgj  -revelling,  drinking, 
swearing,  lying,  uncleanness,  sabbath-breaking,  and  what 
not,  that  tended  to  destroy  the  soul.  But  I  found  at  last, 

144 


HOPEFUL'S  CONVERSION 

by  hearing  and  considering  of  things  that  are  divine, 
which,  indeed,  I  heard  of  you,  as  also  of  beloved  Faithful, 
that  was  put  to  death  for  his  faith  and  good  living  in 
Vanity  Fair,  that  the  end  of  these  things  is  death ;  and 
that  for  these  things'  sake  the  wrath  of  God  cometh 
upon  the  children  of  disobedience. 

Chr.  And  did  you  presently  fall  under  the  power  of 
this  conviction  ? 

Hope.  No,  I  was  not  willing  presently  to  know  the  evil 
of  sin.  nor  the  damnation  that  follows  upon 

,  .  r   •         i  i  i         Hopeful  at  first 

the  commission  or  it;    but  endeavoured,     shut  his  eyes 

when  my  mind  at  first  began  to  be  shaken     a*amst 

with  the  word,  to  shut  mine  eyes  against  the  light  thereof. 

Chr.  But  what  was  the  cause  of  your  carrying  of  it 
thus  to  the  first  workings  of  God's  blessed  Spirit  upon 
you  ? 

Hope.     The  causes  were,  I.  I  was  ignorant  that  this 
was  the  work  of  God  upon  me.     I  never     Reasons  of  the 
thought  that  by  awakenings  for  sin,  God     resisting  of  light 
at  first  begins  the  conversion  of  a  sinner.     2.  Sin  was  yet 
very  sweet  to  my  flesh,  and  I  was  loth  to  leave  it.     g.  I 
could  not  tell  how  to  part  with  mine  old  companions,  their 
presence  and  actions  were  so  desirable  unto  me.     4.  The 
hours  in  which  convictions  were  upon  me,  were  such  trouble- 
some and  such  heart-affrighting  hours,  that  I  could  not  bear, 
no,  not  so  much  as  the  remembrance  of  them  upon  my  heart. 

Chr.  Then,  as  it  seems,  sometimes  you  got  rid  of  your 
trouble  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  verily,  but  it  would  come  into  my  mind 
again ;  and  then  I  should  be  as  bad,  nay,  worse,  than  I 
was  before. 

Chr.  Why,  what  was  it  that  brought  your  sins  to  mind 
again  ? 

Hope.     Many  things  ;  as, 

1.  If  I  did  but  meet  a  good  man  m  the 
street;  or, 

2 .  If  I  have  heard  any  read  in  the  Bible ;  or, 

3.  If  mine  head  did  begin  to  ache  ;  or, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

4.  If  I  were  told  that  some  of  my  neighbours  were 
sick;  or, 

5.  If  I  heard  the  bell  toll  for  some  that  were  dead ;  or, 

6.  If  I  thought  of  dying  myself;  or, 

7.  If  I  heard  that  sudden  death  happened  to  others. 

8.  But  especially  when  I  thought  of  myself,  that  I  must 
quickly  come  to  judgment. 

Chr.  And  could  you  at  any  time  with  ease  get  off  the 
guilt  of  sin,  when  by  any  of  these  ways  it  came  upon  you  ? 
Hope.  No,  not  I ;  for  then  they  got  faster  hold  of  my 
conscience ;  and  then,  if  I  did  but  think  of  going  back  to 
sin  (though  my  mind  was  turned  against  it),  it  would  be 
double  torment  to  me. 

Chr.     And  how  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.     I  thought  I  must  endeavour 
to  mend  my  life  ;  or  else,  thought  I,  I  am 
sure  to  be  damned, 
endeavours  to  Chr.      And    did    you    enaeavour    to 

mend  .  3  * 

amend  r 

Hope.  Yes,  and  fled  from,  not  only  my  sins,  but  sinful 
company  too,  and  betook  me  to  religious  duties  ;  as  praying, 
reading,  weeping  for  sin,  speaking  truth  to  my  neighbours, 
etc.  These  things  did  I  with  many  other,  too  much  here 
to  relate. 

Chr.     And  did  you  think  yourself  well  then  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  for  a  while ;  but  at  the  last  my  trouble 
Then  he  thought  came  tumbling  upon  me  again,  and  that 
himself  well  over  tne  neck  of  an  mv  reformation. 

Chr.  How  came  that  about,  since  you  were  now 
reformed  ? 

Hope.     There  were  several  things  Drought  it  upon  me, 
especially  such  sayings  as  these :  All  our 

Reformation  at  .  r,  *  /-i   «  ^» 

last  could  not  help,  righteousnesses  are  as  filthy  rags.  By 
andwhy  the  works  of  the  law  shall  no  flesh 

be  justified.  When  ye  have  done  all  those  things,  say, 
We  are  unprofitable,  with  many  more  such  like.  From 
whence  I  began  to  reason  with  myself  thus :  If  all 
my  righteousnesses  are  filthy  rags,  if  by  the  deeds  of 


HOPEFUL'S  CONVERSION 

the   law   no    man    can   be    justified,    and   if,   when   we 
have  done  all,  we  are  yet  unprofitable,  then  'tis  but  a 
folly  to  think  of  heaven  by  the  law.    I  further  thought 
thus  :  If  a  man  runs  a  hundred  pounds  into     His  bein?adebtor     c     ; 
the  shopkeeper's  debt,  and  after  that  shall     by  the  law 
pay  for  all  that  he  shall  fetch ;  yet  if  this  old 
debt  stand  still  in  the  book  uncrossed,  the  shopkeeper  may 
sue  him,  and  cast  him  into  prison  till  he  shall  pay  the  debt 

Chr.  Well,  and  how  did  you  apply  this  to  yourself? 

Hope.  Why,  I  thought  thus  with  myself;  I  have  by 
my  sins  run  a  great  way  into  God's  book,  and  that  my  now 
reforming  will  not  pay  off  that  score.  Therefore  I  should 
sink  still,  under  all  my  present  amendments.  But  how  shall 
I  be  freed  from  that  damnation  that  I  brought  myself  in 
danger  of  by  my  former  transgressions  ? 

Chr.     A  very  good  application :  but  pray  go  on. 

Hope.     Another  thing  that  hath  troubled  me,   even 
since  my  late  amendments,  is,  that  if  I  look 
narrowly  into  the  best  of  what  I  do  now,     SiSISJhSbwt 
I  still  see  sin,  new  sin,  mixing  itself  with     duties  troubled 
the  best  of  that  I  do ;  so  that  now  I  am 
forced  to  conclude,  that  notwithstanding  my  former  fond 
conceits  of  myself  and  duties,  I  have  committed  sin  enough 
in  one  day  to  send  me  to  hell,  though  my  former  life  had 
been  faultless. 

Chr.     And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.     Do !  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do,  till  I  brake 
my  mind  to  Faithful;   for  he  and  I  were     Thismadehim 
well  acquainted.     And  he  told  me,  that     break  his  mind  to 

i          T  i  j      t-      •        i          •    1  c      Faithful,  who  told 

unless  I  could  obtain  the  righteousness  of     him  the  way  to  be 

a  man  that  never  had  sinned,  neither  mine     saved 

own,  nor  all  the  righteousness  of  the  world,  could  save  me. 

Chr.     And  did  you  think  he  spake  true  ? 

Hope.  Had  he  told  me  so  when  I  was  pleased  and 
satisfied  with  mine  own  amendment,  I  had  called  him  fool 
for  his  pains  ;  but  now,  since  I  see  mine  own  infirmity,  and 
the  sin  that  cleaves  to  my  best  performance,  I  have  been 
forced  to  be  of  his  opinion. 

147 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.  But  did  you  think,  when  at  first  he  suggested 
it  to  you,  that  there  was  such  a  man  to  be  found,  of 
whom  it  might  justly  be  said  that  he  never  committed 
sin  ? 

Hope.  I  must  confess  the  words  at  first  sounded 
At  which  he  strangely ;  but  after  a  little  more  talk  and 

started  at  present  company  with  him,  I  had  full  conviction 
about  it. 

Chr.  And  did  you  ask  him  what  man  this  was,  and 
how  you  must  be  justified  by  him  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  and  he  told  me  it  was  the  Lord  Jesus,  that 
A  more  particular  dwelleth  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Most 
discovery  of  the  High.  And  thus,  said  he,  you  must 
be  justified  by  Him,  even  by  trusting 
to  what  He  hath  done  by  Himself  in  the  days  of  His 
flesh,  and  suffered  when  He  did  hang  on  the  tree. 
I  asked  him  further,  how  that  Man's  righteousness  could 
be  of  that  efficacy  to  justify  another  before  God.  And 
he  told  me  He  was  the  mighty  God,  and  did  what  He 
did,  and  died  the  death  also  not  for  Himself,  but  for  me ; 
to  whom  His  doings,  and  the  worthiness  of  them,  should 
be  imputed,  if  I  believed  on  Him. 

Chr.     And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  I  made  my  objections  against  my  believing, 
He  doubts  of  ac-  f°r  that  I  thought  He  was  not  willing  to 

ceptation  save    me. 

Chr.     And  what  said  Faithful  to  you  then  ? 

Hope.  He  bid  me  go  to  Him  and  see.  Then  I  said 
He  is  better  in-  it  was  presumption.  He  said,  No;  for  I 
structed  was  invited  to  come.  Then  he  gave  me 

a  book  of  Jesus  His  inditing,  to  encourage  me  the  more 
freely  to  come;  and  he  said  concerning  that  book,  that 
every  jot  and  tittle  thereof  stood  firmer  than  heaven 
and  earth.  Then  I  asked  him  what  I  must  do  when 
I  came ;  and  he  told  me,  I  must  entreat  upon  my  knees, 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  the  Father  to  reveal  Him 
to  me.  Then  I  asked  him  further,  how  I  must  make 
my  supplication  to  Him;  and  he  said,  Go,  and  thou 

148 


HOPEFUL'S  CONVERSION 

shalt  find  Him  upon  a  mercy-seat,  where  He  sits,  all 
the  year  long,  to  give  pardon  and  forgiveness  to  them 
that  come.  I  told  him,  that  I  knew  not  what  to  say 
when  I  came;  and  he  bid  me  say  to 
this  effect:  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner,  and  make  me  to  know  and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ ; 
for  I  see,  that  if  His  righteousness  had  not  been,  or 
I  have  not  faith  in  that  righteousness,  I  am  utterly  cast 
awLy.  Lord,  I  have  heard  that  Thou  art  a  merciful  God, 
and  hast  ordained  that  Thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  should  be 
die  Saviour  of  the  world ;  and  moreover,  that  Thou  art 
willing  to  bestow  Him  upon  such  a  poor  sinner  as  I 
am.  And  I  am  a  sinner  indeed.  Lord,  take  there- 
fore this  opportunity,  and  magnify  Thy  grace  in  the 
salvation  of  my  soul,  through  Thy  Son  Jesus  Christ. 
Amen. 

Chr.     And  did  you  do  as  you  were  bidd«i  ? 

Hope.     Yes,    over,    and    ever,    and 
over.  Heprays 

Chr.     And  did  the  Father  reveal  His  Son  to  you  ? 

Hope.  No,  not  at  the  first,  nor  second,  nor  third, 
nor  fourth,  nor  fifth,  no,  nor  at  the  sixth  time 
neither. 

Chr.     What  did  you  do  then? 

Hope.     What  ?  why  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do. 

Chr.     Had  you  not  thoughts  of  leaving  off  praying  ? 

Hope.     Yes;    a  hundred   times  twice     He  thought  to 

Jold.  leave  off  praying 

Chr.     And  what  was  the  reason  you  did  not  ? 

Hope.     I  believed  that  that  was  true  which  had  been 
told  me,  to  wit,  that  without  the  righteousness  of  this 
Christ,  all  the  world  could  not  save  me ;  and  therefore, 
thought  I  with  myself,  if  I  leave  off,  I     He  durst  not  leave 
die,  and  I  can  but  die  at  the  throne  of     off  praying,  and 
grace.     And  withal   this   came    nto  my 
mind,   If  it   tarry,  wait  for   it ;   because   it  will   surely 
come,  and  will  not  tarry.     So  I  ccntinusd  praying,  until 
the  Father  showed  me  His  Son. 

149 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.     And  how  was  He  revealed  unto  you  ? 

Hope.     I  did  not  see  Him  with  my  bodily  eyes,  but 

Christ  is  revealed  with  tne  eyes  or"  mme  understanding, 
to  him,  and  how  an(j  thus  jt  waSg  One  day  I  was  very 

sad,  I  think  sadder  than  at  any  one  time  in  my  life ; 
and  this  sadness  was  through  a  fresh  sight  of  the 
greatness  and  vileness  of  my  sins.  And  as  I  was  then 
looking  for  nothing  but  hell,  and  the  everlasting  damna- 
tion of  my  soul,  suddenly,  as  I  thought,  I  saw  the  Lord 
Jesus  looking  down  from  heaven  upon  me,  and  saying, 
Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be 
saved. 

But  I  replied,  Lord,  I  am  a  great,  a  very  great  sinner : 
and  He  answered,  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee. 
Then  I  said,  But,  Lord,  what  is  believing?  And  then 
I  saw  from  that  saying,  He  that  cometh  to  Me  shall 
never  hunger,  and  he  that  believeth  on  Me  shall  never 
thirst,  that  believing  and  coming  was  all  one ;  and  that 
he  that  came,  that  is,  that  ran  out  in  his  heart  and 
affections  after  salvation  by  Christ,  he  indeed  believed 
in  Christ.  Then  the  water  stood  in  mine  eyes,  and 
I  asked  further,  But,  Lord,  may  such  a  great  sinner  as 
I  am  be  indeed  accepted  of  Thee,  and  be  saved  by 
Thee  ?  And  I  heard  Him  say,  And  him  that  cometh 
to  Me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  Then  I  said,  But 
how,  Lord,  must  I  consider  of  Thee  in  my  coming  to 
Thee,  that  my  faith  may  be  placed  aright  upon  Thee  ? 
Then  He  said,  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to 
save  sinners.  He  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteous- 
ness to  every  one  that  believes.  He  died  for  our  sins, 
and  rose  again  for  our  justification.  He  loved  us,  and 
washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood.  He  is 
Mediator  betwixt  God  and  us.  He  ever  liveth  to 
make  intercession  for  us.  From  all  which  I  gathered, 
that  I  must  look  for  righteousness  in  His  person, 
and  for  satisfaction  for  my  sins  by  His  blood :  that 
what  He  did  in  obedience  to  His  Father's  law,  and 
in  submitting  to  the  penalty  thereof,  was  not  for  Him- 

150 


HOPEFUL'S    CONVERSION 
"Lord,  I  am  a  great,  a  very  great  sinner.' 


IGNORANCE  AGAIN 

self,  but  for  him  that  will  accept  it  for  his  salvation, 
and  be  thankful.  And  now  was  my  heart  full  of  joy, 
mine  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  mine  affections  running 
over  with  love  to  the  name,  people,  and  ways  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

Chr.  This  was  a  revelation  of  Christ  to  your  soul 
indeed.  But  tell  me  particularly  what  effect  this  had 
upon  your  spirit. 

Hope.  It  made  me  see  that  all  the  world,  notwith- 
standing all  the  righteousness  thereof,  is  in  a  state  of 
condemnation.  It  made  me  see  that  God  the  Father, 
though  He  be  just,  can  justly  justify  the  coming  sinner. 
It  made  me  greatly  ashamed  of  the  vileness  of  my  former 
life,  and  confounded  me  with  the  sense  of  mine  own 
ignorance ;  for  there  never  came  thought  into  my  heart 
before  now  that  showed  me  so  the  beauty  of  Jesus 
Christ.  It  made  me  love  a  holy  life,  and  long  to  do 
something  for  the  honour  and  glory  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
Yea,  I  thought  that  had  I  now  a  thousand  gallons  of 
blood  in  my  body,  I  could  spill  it  all  for  the  sake  of  the 
Lord  Jesus. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  Hopeful  looked  back, 
and  saw  Ignorance,  whom  they  had  left  behind,  coming 
after.  Look,  said  he  to  Christian,  how  far  yonder 
youngster  loitereth  behind. 

Chr.    Ay,  ay,  I  see  him ;  he  careth  not  for  our  company. 

Hope.  But  I  trow  it  would  not  have  hurt  him  had  he 
kept  pace  with  us  hitherto. 

Chr.  That's  true ;  but  I  warrant  you  he  thinketh 
otherwise. 

Hope.  That  I  think  he  doth;  but,  however,  let  us 
tarry  for  him.  So  they  did. 

Then  Christian  said  to  him,  Come  away,     Young-  ignorance 
man  ;  why  do  you  stay  so  behind  ?  comes  UP  a*ain 

Ignor.     I  take   my  pleasure   in   walking  alone,   even 
more  a  great  deal  than  in  company,  unless 
I  like  it  the  better.  Theirtalk 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful  (but  softly),  Did  I  not 
151      - 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

tell  you  he  cared  not  for  our  company  ?  But  however, 
said  he,  come  up,  and  let  us  talk  away  the  time  in  this 
solitary  place.  Then,  directing  his  speech  to  Ignorance, 
he  said,  Come,  how  do  you  do  ?  How  stands  it  between 
God  and  your  soul  now  ? 

Ignorance's  hope,        .     I&^^      l  h°Pe»  Wel1  '    f°r  l  am    alw37S 

an  j  the  ground         full  of  good  motions,  that  come  into  my 
mind  to  comfort  me  as  I  walk. 

Chr.     "What  good  motions  ?  pray  tell  us. 

Ignor.     Why,  I  think  of  God  and  heaven. 

Chr.     So  do  the  devils  and  damned  souls. 

Ignor.     But  I  think  of  them,  and  desire  them. 

Chr.  So  do  many  that  are  never  like  to  come  there. 
The  soul  of  the  sluggard  desires,  and  hath  nothing. 

Ignor.     But  I  think  of  them,  and  leave  all  for  them. 

Chr.  That  I  doubt ;  for  leaving  of  all  is  a  hard 
matter ;  yea,  a  harder  matter  than  many  are  aware  of. 
But  why,  or  by  what,  art  thou  persuaded  that  thou  hast 
left  all  for  God  and  heaven  ? 

Ignor.     My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.  The  wise  man  says,  He  that  trusts  his  own  heart 
is  a  fool. 

Ignor.  That  is  spoken  of  an  evil  heart ;  but  mine  is 
a  good  one. 

Chr.     But  how  dost  thou  prove  that  ? 

Ignor.     It  comforts  me  in  hopes  of  heaven. 

Chr.  That  may  be  through  its  deceitfulness ;  for 
a  man's  heart  may  minister  comfort  to  him  in  the 
hopes  of  that  thing  for  which  he  has  yet  no  ground  to 
hope. 

Ignor.  But  my  heart  and  life  agree  together  j  and 
therefore  my  hope  is  well  grounded. 

Chr.  Who  told  thee  that  thy  heart  and  life  agree 
together  ? 

Ignor.     My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.  Ask  my  fellow  if  I  be  a  thief.  Thy  heart 
tells  thee  so !  Except  the  word  of  God  beareth  witness 
in  this  matter,  other  testimony  is  of  no  value. 

152 


CHRISTIAN  AND  IGNORANCE 

Ignor.  But  is  it  not  a  good  heart  that  has  good 
thoughts  ?  and  is  not  that  a  good  life  that  is  according  to 
God's  commandments  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  that  is  a  good  heart  that  hath  good  thoughts, 
and  that  is  a  good  life  that  is  according  to  God's  com- 
mandments ;  but  it  is  one  thing  indeed  to  have  these,  and 
another  thing  only  to  think  so. 

Ignor.  Pray,  what  count  you  good  thoughts,  and  a 
life  according  to  God's  commandments  ? 

Chr.  There  are  good  thoughts  of  divers  kinds  ; — 
some  respecting  ourselves,  some  God,  some  Christ,  and 
some  other  things. 

Ignor.     What  be  good  thoughts  respecting  ourselves  ? 

Chr.     Such  as  agree  with  the  word  of     what  are  good 
God.  thoughts? 

Ignor.  When  do  our  thoughts  of  ourselves  agree  with 
the  word  of  God  ? 

Chr.  When  we  pass  the  same  judgment  upon  ourselves 
which  the  word  passes.  To  explain  myself:  the  word  of 
God  saith  of  persons  in  a  natural  condition,  There  is 
none  righteous,  there  is  none  that  doeth  good.  It  saith 
also,  that  every  imagination  of  the  heart  of  man  is  only 
evil,  and  that  continually.  And  again,  The  imagina- 
tion of  man's  heart  is  evil  from  his  youth.  Now,  then, 
when  we  think  thus  of  ourselves,  having  sense  thereof, 
then  are  our  thoughts  good  ones,  because  according  to 
the  word  of  God. 

Ignor.  I  will  never  believe  that  my  heart  is  thus 
bad. 

Chr.  Therefore  thou  never  hadst  one  good  thought 
concerning  thyself  in  thy  life. — But  let  me  go  on.  As 
the  word  passeth  a  judgment  upon  our  hearts,  so  it  passeth 
a  judgment  upon  our  ways ;  and  when  our  thoughts  of 
our  hearts  and  ways  agree  with  the  judgment  which  the 
word  giveth  of  both,  then  are  both  good,  because  agreeing 
thereto. 

Ignor.     Make  out  your  meaning. 

Chr.     Why,  the  word  of  God  saith,  that  man's  ways 

153 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

are  crooked  ways,  not  good,  but  perverse ;  it  saith,  they 
are  naturally  out  of  the  good  way,  that  they  have  not 
known  it.  Now  when  a  man  thus  thinketh  of  his  ways, 
I  say  when  he  doth  sensibly,  and  with  heart-humiliation, 
thus  think,  then  hath  he  good  thoughts  of  his  own  ways, 
because  his  thoughts  now  agree  with  the  judgment  of  the 
word  of  God. 

Ignor.     What  are  good  thoughts  concerning  God  ? 

Chr.  Even,  as  I  have  said  concerning  ourselves,  when 
our  thoughts  of  God  do  agree  with  what  the  word  saith 
of  Him;  and  that  is,  when  we  think  of  His  being  and 
attributes  as  the  word  hath  taught ;  of  which  I  cannot 
now  discourse  at  large.  But  to  speak  of  Him  in 
reference  to  us  :  then  we  have  right  thoughts  of  God 
when  we  think  that  He  knows  us  better  than  we  know 
ourselves,  and  can  see  sin  in  us  when  and  where  we  can 
see  none  in  ourselves  :  when  we  think  He  knows  our  inmost 
thoughts,  and  that  our  heart,  with  all  its  depths,  is  always 
open  unto  His  eyes  5  also  when  we  think  that  all  our 
righteousness  stinks  in  His  nostrils,  and  that  therefore  He 
cannot  abide  to  see  us  stand  before  Him  in  any  confidence, 
even  in  all  our  best  performances. 

Ignor.  Do  you  think  that  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  think 
God  can  see  no  further  than  I ;  or  that  I  would  come  to 
God  in  the  best  of  my  performances  ? 

Chr.     "Why,  how  dost  thou  think  in  this  matter  ? 

Ignor.  Why,  to  be  short,  I  think  I  must  believe  in 
Christ  for  justification. 

Chr.  How !  think  thou  must  believe  in  Christ,  when 
thou  seest  not  thy  need  of  Him  !  Thou  neither  seest 
thy  original  nor  actual  infirmities ;  but  hast  such 
an  opinion  of  thyself,  and  of  what  thou  doest,  as 
plainly  renders  thee  to  be  one  that  did  never  see  a 
necessity  of  Christ's  personal  righteousness  to  justify 
thee  before  God.  How,  then,  dost  thou  say,  I  believe 
in  Christ? 

Ignor.     I  believe  well  enough  for  all  that« 

Chr.     How  dost  thou  believe  ? 

154 


CHRISTIAN  AND  IGNORANCE 

Ignor.     I  believe  that  Christ  died  for  sinners ;  and  that 
I  shall  be  justified  before  God  from  the     The  faith  of 
curse,  through  His  gracious  acceptance  of     ignorance 
my  obedience  to  His  law.     Or   thus,  Christ   makes  my 
duties,  that  are  religious,  acceptable   to  His  Father  by 
virtue  of  His  merits,  and  so  shall  I  be  justified. 

Chr.  Let  me  give  an  answer  to  this  confession  of 
thy  faith: 

1.  Thou   believest   with   a  fantastical   faith;   for   this 
faith  is  nowhere  described  in  the  word. 

2.  Thou  believest  with  a  false  faith ;  because  it  taketh 
justification  from  the  personal  righteousness  of  Christ,  and 
applies  it  to  thy  own. 

3.  This  faith  maketh  not  Christ  a  justifier  of  thy  person, 
but  of  thy  actions ;  and  of  thy  person  for  thy  actions'  sake, 
which  is  false. 

4.  Therefore  this  faith  is  deceitful,  even  such  as  will 
leave  thee  under  wrath  in  the  day  of  God  Almighty :  for 
true  justifying  faith  puts  the  soul,  as  sensible  of  its  lost 
condition  by  the  law,  upon  flying  for  refuge  unto  Christ's 
righteousness  (which  righteousness  of  His  is  not  an  act 
of    grace    by   which   He   maketh,    for  justification,    thy 
obedience  accepted  with  God,  but  His  personal  obedience 
to  the  law,  in  doing  and  suffering  for  us  what  that  required 
at   our    hands);    this    righteousness,    I    say,    true    faith 
accepteth ;    under    the    skirt   of    which   the   soul   being 
shrouded,  and  by  it  presented  as  spotless  before  God,  it  is 
accepted,  and  acquit  from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  What !  would  you  have  us  trust  to  what 
Christ  in  His  own  person  has  done  without  us  ?  This 
conceit  would  loosen  the  reins  of  our  lust,  and  tolerate 
us  to  live  as  we  list :  for  what  matter  how  we  live,  if  we 
may  be  justified  by  Christ's  personal  righteousness  from 
all,  when  we  believe  it  ? 

Chr.  Ignorance  is  thy  name,  and  as  thy  name  is,  so  art 
thou  :  even  this  thy  answer  demonstrated  what  I  say. 
Ignorant  thou  art  of  what  justifying  righteousness  is,  and 
as  ignorant  how  to  secure  thy  soul  through  the  faith  of  it, 

155 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

from  the  heavy  wrath  of  God.  Yea,  thou  also  art  ignorant 
of  the  true  effects  of  saving  faith  in  this  righteousness 
of  Christ,  which  is  to  bow  and  win  over  the  heart  to  God 
in  Christ,  to  love  His  name,  His  word,  ways,  and  people, 
and  not  as  thou  ignorantly  imaginest. 

Hope.  Ask  him  if  ever  he  had  Christ  revealed  to  him 
from  heaven. 

Ignor.  What !  you  are  a  man  for  revelations !  I 
ignorance  jangles  believe,  that  what  both  you  and  all  the 
with  them  rest  of  you  say  about  that  matter,  is  but 

the  fruit  of  distracted  brains. 

Hope.  "Why,  man !  Christ  is  so  hid  in  God  from  the 
natural  apprehensions  of  all  flesh,  that  He  cannot  by  any 
man  be  savingly  known,  unless  God  the  Father  reveals 
Him  to  them. 

Ignor.  That  is  your  faith,  but  not  mine ;  yet  mine,  I 
He  speaks  re-  doubt  not,  is  as  good  as  yours,  though  I 
what  hfeULowsf  nave  not  in  mv  head  so  manv  whimsies  as 

not  you. 

Chr.  Give  me  leave  to  put  in  a  word.  You  ought 
not  so  slightly  to  speak  of  this  matter:  for  this  I  will 
boldly  affirm  (even  as  my  good  companion  hath  done), 
that  no  man  can  know  Jesus  Christ  but  by  the  revelation 
of  the  Father:  yea,  and  faith  too,  by  which  the  soul 
layeth  hold  upon  Christ  (if  it  be  right),  must  be 
wrought  by  the  exceeding  greatness  of  His  mighty 
power;  the  working  of  which  faith,  I  perceive,  poor 
Ignorance,  thou  art  ignorant  of.  Be  awakened  then,  see 
thine  own  wretchedness,  and  fly  to  the  Lord  Jesus ; 
and  by  His  righteousness,  which  is  the  righteousness  of 
God  (for  He  Himself  is  God),  thou  shalt  be  delivered 
from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  You  go  so  fast,  I  cannot  keep  pace  with 
The  talk  broke  you  5  ^°  vou  g°  °n  before :  I  must  stay 
UP  awhile  behind. 

Then  they  said — 

Well,  Ignorance,  wilt  thou  yet  foolish  be, 
To  slight  good  counsel,   ten  times  given  thee? 


CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL 

And  if  thou  yet  refuse  it,  thou  shalt  know 
Ere  long  the  eril  of  thy  doing  so. 
Remember,  man,  in  time ;    stoop,  do  not  fear ; 
Good  counsel,  taken  well,  sares ;    therefore  hear. 
But  if  thou  yet  shalt  slight  it,  thou  wilt  be 
The  loser,  Ignorance,  I'll  warrant  thee. 

Then  Christian  addressed  thus  himself  to  his  fellow : — 

Chr.  Well,  come,  my  good  Hopeful,  I  perceive  that 
thou  and  I  must  walk  by  ourselves  again. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  apace  before, 
and  Ignorance  he  came  hobbling  after.  Then  said  Christian 
to  his  companion,  It  pities  me  much  for  this  poor  man :  it 
will  certainly  go  ill  with  him  at  last. 

Hope.  Alas  !  there  are  abundance  in  our  town  in  this 
condition,  whole  families,  yea,  whole  streets,  and  that  of 
pilgrims  too ;  and  if  there  be  so  many  in  our  parts,  how 
many,  think  you,  must  there  be  in  the  place  where  he  was 
born  ? 

Chr.  Indeed,  the  word  saith,  He  hath  blinded  their 
eyes,  lest  they  should  see,  etc. 

But,  now  we  are  by  ourselves,  what  do  you  think  of  such      AK 
men  ?  have  they  at  no  time,  think  you,  convictions  of  sin,    ' 
and  so  consequently  fear  that  their  state  is  dangerous  ? 

Hope.  Nay,  do  you  answer  that  question  yourself,  for 
you  are  the  elder  man. 

Chr.  Then  I  say,  sometimes  (as  I  think)  they  may ; 
but  they  being  naturally  ignorant,  understand  not  that 
such  convictions  tend  to  their  good  •,  and  therefore  they 
do  desperately  seek  to  stifle  them,  and  presumptuously  con- 
tinue to  flatter  themselves  in  the  way  of  their  own  hearts. 

Hope.     I  do  believe,  as  you  say,  that  fear  tends  much 
to  men's  good,  and  to  make  them  right  at     The  rood  use  of 
their  beginning  to  go  on  pilgrimage.  fcar 

Chr.  Without  all  doubt  it  doth,  if  it  be  right :  for  so 
says  the  word,  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of 
wisdom. 

Hope.     How  will  you  describe  right  fear  ? 

Chr.     True  or  right  fear  is  discovered 
by  three  things : 

157 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

1.  By  its  rise  :  it  is  caused  by  saving  convictions  for  sin. 

2.  It  driveth  the  soul  to  lay  fast  hold  of  Christ  for 
salvation. 

3.  It  begetteth  and  continueth  in  the  soul  a  great  rever- 
ence of  God,  His  word,  and  ways ;  keeping  it  tender,  and 
making  it  afraid  to  turn  from  them,  to  the  right  hand  or 
to  the  left,  to  any  thing  that  may  dishonour  God,  break 
its  peace,  grieve  the  Spirit,  or  cause  the  enemy  to  speak 
reproachfully. 

Hope.  Well  said ;  I  believe  you  have  said  the  truth. 
Are  we  now  almost  got  past  the  Enchanted  Ground  ? 

Chr.     Why  ?  art  thou  weary  of  this  discourse  ? 

Hope.  No,  verily,  but  that  I  would  know  where  we 
are. 

Chr.  We  have  not  now  above  two  miles  farther  to  go 
thereon. — But  let  us  return  to  our  matter. 

Now  the  ignorant  know  not  that  such  convictions  that 
....  tend  to  put  them  in  fear,  are  for  their 

Why  ignorant  .  r 

persons  stifle  good,   and   therefore   they  seek  to   stifle 

convictions  ^^ 

Hope.     How  do  they  seek  to  stifle  them  ? 

Chr.  I.  They  think  that  those  fears  are  wrought  by 
the  devil  (though  indeed  they  are  wrought  of  God),  and, 
thinking  so,  they  resist  them,  as  things  that  directly  tend 
to  their  overthrow.  2.  They  also  think  that  these  fears 
tend  to  the  spoiling  of  their  faith ;  when,  alas  for  them, 
poor  men  that  they  are,  they  have  none  at  all !  and  there- 
fore they  harden  their  hearts  against  them.  3.  They  pre- 
sume they  ought  not  to  fear,  and  therefore  in  despite  of 
them,  wax  presumptuously  confident.  4.  They  see  that 
those  fears  tend  to  take  away  from  them  their  pitiful  old  self- 
holiness,  and  therefore  they  resist  them  with  all  their  might. 

Hope.  I  know  something  of  this  myself;  for  before  I 
knew  myself  it  was  so  with  me. 

Chr.  Well,  we  will  leave,  at  this  time,  our  neighbour 
Ignorance  by  himself,  and  fall  upon  another  profitable 
question. 

Hope.    With  all  my  heart ;  but  you  shall  still  begin. 
158 


ONE  TEMPORARY 

Chr.     Well,  then,  did  you  know,  about  ten  years  ago, 
one  Temporary  in  your  parts,  who  was  a    Talk  about  one 
forward  man  in  religion  then  ?  Temporary 

Hope.  Know  him  !  yes  ;  he  dwelt  in  Graceless,  a  town 
about  two  miles  off  of  Honesty,  and  he 
dwelt  next  door  to  one  Turnback. 

Chr.     Right ;  he  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with  him. 
Well,  that  man  was  much  awakened  once :     He  was 
I  believe  that  then  he  had  some  sight  of     towardiy  once 
his  sins,  and  of  the  wages  that  were  due  thereto. 

Hope.  I  am  of  your  mind,  for  (my  house  not  being 
above  three  miles  from  him)  he  would  ofttimes  come  to 
me,  and  that  with  many  tears.  Truly  I  pitied  the  man, 
and  was  not  altogether  without  hope  of  him  :  but  one  may 
see,  it  is  not  every  one  that  cries,  Lord,  Lord ! 

Chr.  He  told  me  once  that  he  was  resolved  to  go  on 
pilgrimage,  as  we  go  now ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  he  grew 
acquainted  with  one  Save-self,  and  shen  he  became  a 
stranger  to  me. 

Hope.  Now,  since  we  are  talking  about  him,  let  us  a 
little  inquire  into  the  reason  of  the  sudden  backsliding  of 
him  and  such  others. 

Chr.     It  may  be  very  profitable ;  but  do  you  begin. 

Hope.  Well,  then,  there  are,  in  my  judgment,  four 
reasons  for  it : 

I.  Though  the  consciences  of  such  men  are  awakened, 
yet  their  minds  are  not  changed :  therefore, 

r  Reasons  why 

when  the  power  of  guilt  weareth  away,  towardiy  ones 
that  which  provoketh  them  to  be  religious  s°  back 
ceaseth ;  wherefore  they  naturally  return  to  their  own  course 
again ;  even  as  we  see  the  dog  that  is  sick  of  what  he  hath 
eaten,  so  long  as  his  sickness  prevails,  he  vomits  and  casts 
up  all ;  not  that  he  doth  this  of  a  free  mind  (if  we  may  say 
a  dog  has  a  mind),  but  because  it  troubleth  his  stomach : 
but  now,  when  his  sickness  is  over,  and  so  his  stomach 
eased,  his  desires  being  not  at  all  alienated  from  his  vomit, 
he  turns  him  about,  and  licks  up  all ;  and  so  it  is  true  which 
is  written,  The  dog  is  turned  to  his  own  vomit  again. 

159 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

This,  I  say,  being  hot  for  heaven,  by  virtue  only  of  the 
sense  and  fear  of  the  torments  of  hell,  as  their  sense  of 
hell  and  the  fears  of  damnation  chills  and  cools,  so  their 
desires  for  heaven  and  salvation  cool  also.  So  then  it  comes 
to  pass,  that  when  their  guilt  and  fear  is  gone,  their  desires 
for  heaven  and  happiness  die,  and  they  return  to  their 
course  again. 

2.  Another  reason  is,  they  have  slavish  fears  that  do 
overmaster   them :   I  speak  now  of  the  fears  that   they 
have  of  men :   For  the  fear  of  man   bringeth   a   snare. 
So    then,    though    they    seem    to    be    hot    for    heaven 
so  long  as  the  flames  of  hell  are  about  their  ears,  yet, 
when   that   terror   is    a   little   over,    they   betake   them- 
selves to  second  thoughts,  namely,  that  'tis  good  to  be 
wise,  and  not  to  run  (for  they  know  not  what)  the  hazard 
of  losing   all,    or   at   least   of  bringing    themselves   into 
unavoidable  and  unnecessary  troubles ;  and  so  they  fall  in 
with  the  world  again. 

3.  The  shame  that  attends  religion  lies  also  as  a  block 
in  their  way :  they  are  proud  and  haughty,  and  religion  in 
their  eye  is  low  and  contemptible:  therefore  when  they 
have  lost  their   sense  of  hell  and  wrath  to  come,  they 
return  again  to  their  former  course. 

4.  Guilt,  and  to  meditate  terror,  are  grievous  to  them ; 
they  like  not  to  see  their  misery  before  they  come  into  it ; 
though  perhaps  the  sight  of  it  first,  if  they  loved   that 
sight,  might  make  them  fly  whither  the  righteous  fly,  and 
are  safe ;  but  because  they  do,  as  I  hinted  before,  even 
shun  the  thoughts  of  guilt  and  terror;   therefore,  when 
once  they  are  rid  of  their  awakenings  about  the  terrors 
and  wrath  of  God,  they  harden  their  hearts  gladly,  and 
choose  such  ways  as  will  harden  them  more  and  more. 

Chr.  Your  are  pretty  near  the  business,  for  the  bottom 
of  all  is  for  want  of  a  change  in  their  mind  and  will.  And 
therefore  they  are  but  like  the  felon  that  standeth  before  the 
judge :  he  quakes  and  trembles,  and  seems  to  repent  most 
heartily,  but  the  bottom  of  all  is  the  fear  of  the  halter  j 
aot  that  he  hath  any  detestation  of  the  offences  as  is  evident ; 

1 60 


ONE  TEMPORARY 

because  let  but  this  man  have  his  liberty,  and  he  will  be 
a  thief,  and  so  a  rogue  still  •,  whereas,  if  his  mind  was 
changed,  he  would  be  otherwise. 

Hope.  Now  I  have  showed  you  the  reasons  of  their 
going  back,  do  you  show  me  the  manner  thereof. 

Chr.     So  I  will  willingly  : 

1.  They  draw  off  their   thoughts,  all  that  they  may, 
from  the  remembrance  of  God,  death,  and     HOW  the  apostate 
judgment  to  come.  goes  back 

2.  Then   they  cast   off  by  degrees    private  duties,  as 
closet  prayer,  curbing  their  lusts,  watching,   sorrow  for 
sin,  and  the  like. 

3.  Then  they  shun  the  company  of  lively  and  warm 
Christians. 

4.  After    that,   they   grow   cold   to   public   duty ;    as 
hearing,  reading,  godly  conference,  and  the  like. 

5.  They  then   begin  to  pick  holes,  as  we  say,  in  the 
coats  of  some  of  the  godly,  and  that  devilishly,  that  they 
may  have  a  seeming  colour  to  throw  religion  (for  the  sake  of 
some  infirmity  they  have  spied  in  them)  behind  their  backs. 

6.  Then  they  begin  to  adhere  to,  and  associate  them- 
selves with,  carnal,  loose,  and  wanton  men. 

7.  Then  they  give  way  to  carnal  and  wanton  discourses 
in  secret  5  and  glad  are  they  if  they  can  see  such  things  in 
any  that  are  counted  honest,  that  they  may  the  more  boldly 
do  it  through  their  example. 

8.  After  this,  they  begin  to  play  with  little  sins  openly. 

9.  And  then,  being  hardened,  they  show  themselves  as 
they  are.     Thus,  being  launched  again   into  the  gulf  of 
misery,  unless  a  miracle  of  grace  prevent  it,  they  ever- 
lastingly perish  in  their  own  deceivings. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this  time  the 
pilgrims  were  got  over  the  Enchanted  Ground,  and 
entering  into  the  country  of  Beulah,  whose  air  was 
very  sweet  and  pleasant ;  the  way  lying  directly  through 
it,  they  solaced  themselves  there  for  a  season.  Yea, 
here  they  heard  continually  the  singing  of  birds,  and  saw 
every  day  the  flowers  appear  in  the  earth,  and  heard 


I 

THE  pfLGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

the  voice  of  the  turtle  in  the  land.  In  this  country  the 
sun  shineth  night  and  day :  wherefore  this  was  beyond  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  also  out  of  the  reach 
of  Giant  Despair ;  neither  could  they  from  this  place  so 
much  as  see  Doubting  Castle.  Here  they  were  within 
sight  of  the  City  they  were  going  to :  also  here  met  them 
some  of  the  inhabitants  thereof;  for  in  this 
land  the  shining  ones  commonly  walked, 
because  it  was  upon  the  borders  of  heaven.  In  this  land 
also  the  contract  between  the  Bride  and  the  Bridegroom 
was  renewed ;  yea,  here,  as  the  bridegroom  rejoiceth 
over  the  bride,  so  did  their  God  rejoice  over  them. 
Here  they  had  no  want  of  corn  and  wine  ;  for  in  this  place 
they  met  with  abundance  of  what  they  had  sought  for  in 
all  their  pilgrimages.  Here  they  heard  voices  from  out 
of  the  City,  loud  voices,  saying,  Say  ye  to  the  daughter 
of  Zion,  Behold,  thy  salvation  cometh !  Behold,  His 
reward  is  with  Him  !  Here  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country  called  them,  the  holy  people,  the  redeemed  of 
the  Lord,  sought  out,  etc. 

Now,  as  they  walked  this  land,  they  had  more  rejoicing 
than  in  parts  more  remote  from  the  kingdom  to  which 
they  were  bound ;  and  drawing  near  to  the  City,  they 
had  yet  a  more  perfect  view  thereof.  It  was  builded 
of  pearls  and  precious  stones,  also  the  street  thereof  was 
paved  with  gold ;  so  that,  by  reason  of  the  natural  glory 
of  the  City,  and  the  reflection  of  the  sunbeams  upon  it, 
Christian  with  desire  fell  sick  5  Hopeful  also  had  a  fit  or 
two  of  the  same  disease :  wherefore  here  they  lay  by  it 
awhile,  crying  out  because  of  their  pangs,  If  you  see  my 
Beloved,  tell  Him  that  I  am  sick  of  love. 

But,  being  a  little  strengthened,  and  better  able  to  bear 
their  sickness,  they  walked  on  their  way,  and  came  yet 
nearer  and  nearer,  where  were  orchards,  vineyards,  and 
gardens,  and  their  gates  opened  into  the  highway.  Now, 
as  they  came  up  to  these  places,  behold,  the  gardener 
stood  in  the  way ;  to  whom  the  pilgrims  said,  Whose 
goodly  vineyards  and  gardens  are  these  ?  He  answered, 

162 


THEY  REACH  THE  RIVER 

They  are  the  King's,  and  are  planted  here  for  His  own 
delights,  and  also  for  the  solace  of  pilgrims.  So  the 
gardener  had  them  into  the  vineyards,  and  bid  them  refresh 
themselves  with  the  dainties ;  he  also  showed  them  there 
the  King's  walks  and  the  arbours,  where  He  delighted 
to  be  :  and  here  they  tarried  and  slept. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream,  that  they  talked  more  in 
their  sleep  at  this  time  than  ever  they  did  in  all  their 
journey  ;  and,  being  in  a  muse  thereabout,  the  gardener 
said  even  to  me,  Wherefore  musest  thou  at  the  matter  ? 
it  is  the  nature  of  the  fruit  of  the  grapes  of  these  vineyards 
to  go  down  so  sweetly  as  to  cause  the  lips  of  them  that 
are  asleep  to  speak. 

So  I  saw  that  when  they  awoke  they  addressed  them- 
selves to  go  up  to  the  City.  But,  as  I  said,  the  reflection 
of  the  sun  upon  the  City  (for  the  City  was  pure  gold), 
was  so  extremely  glorious,  that  they  could  not  as  yet 
with  open  face  behold  it,  but  through  an  instrument  made 
for  that  purpose.  So  I  saw,  that  as  they  went  on,  there 
met  them  two  men  in  raiment  that  shone  like  gold,  also 
their  faces  shone  as  the  light. 

These  men  asked  the  pilgrims  whence  they  came,  and 
they  told  them.  They  also  asked  them  where  they  had 
lodged,  what  difficulties  and  dangers,  what  comforts  and 
pleasures,  they  had  met  in  the  way ;  and  they  told  them. 
Then  said  the  men  that  met  them,  You  have  but  two 
difficulties  more  to  meet  with,  and  then  you  are  in  the  City. 

Christian  then  and  his  companion  asked  the  men  to  go 
along  with  them :  so  they  told  them  they  would ;  But,  said 
they,  you  must  obtain  it  by  your  own  faith.  So  I  saw  in 
my  dream  that  they  went  on  together  till  they  came  in 
sight  pf  the  gate. 

Now  I  further  saw,  that  betwixt  them  and  the  gate  was 
a   river;  but   there  was  no  bridge  to  go 
over;  and  the  river  was  very  deep.      At 
the  sight  therefore  of  this  river  the  pilgrims  were  much 
stunned  ;  but  the  men  that  went  with  them  said,  You  must 
go  through  or  you  cannot  come  at  the  gate 

16$ 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

The  pilgrims  then  began  to  inquire,  if  there  was  no  other 
way  to  the  gate.  To  which  they  answered,  Yes ;  but 
there  hath  not  any,  save  two,  to  wit,  Enoch  and  Elijah, 
been  permitted  to  tread  that  path  since  the  foundation  of 
the  world,  nor  shall  until  the  last  trumpet  shall  sound. 
The  pilgrims  then,  especially  Christian,  began  to  despond 
in  his  mind,  and  looked  this  way  and  that,  but  no  way 
Death  is  not  wei-  could  be  found  by  them  by  which  they 
SSS&bffi*  might  escaPe  the  river-  Then  they  asked 

w?r!d°intoftihis  t^ie  men  ^  *ke  waters  were  aU  °f  a  depth. 
They  said,  No;  yet  they  could  not  help 
Comfortably  them  in  that  case ;  For,  said  they,  you 
through  death  snall  find  it  deeper  or  shallower  as  you 
believe  in  the  King  of  the  place. 

They  then  addressed  themselves  to  the  water,  and 
entering,  Christian  began  to  sink,  and,  crying  out  to  his 
good  friend  Hopeful,  he  said,  I  sink  in  deep  waters ;  the 
billows  go  over  my  head,  all  His  waves  go  over  me.  Selah. 

Then  said  the  other,  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  brother :  I 
feel  the  bottom,  and  it  is  good.  Then  said  Christian,  Ah  ! 
my  friend,  the  sorrows  of  death  hath  compassed  me  about, 

Christian's  con-  *    Sna^    nOt    SCe    ^G    ^au(^    tnat    fl°WS    with 

met  at  the  hour  of  milk  and  honey.  And  with  that  a  great 
darkness  and  horror  fell  upon  Christian,  so 
that  he  could  not  see  before  him.  Also  here  he  in  great 
measure  lost  his  senses,  so  that  he  could  neither  remember 
nor  orderly  talk  of  any  of  those  sweet  refreshments  that  he 
had  met  with  in  the  way  of  his  pilgrimage.  But  all  the 
words  that  he  spake  still  tended  to  discover  that  he  had 
horror  of  mind,  and  hearty  fears  that  he  should  die  in  that 
river,  and  never  obtain  entrance  in  at  the  gate.  Here  also, 
as  they  that  stood  by  perceived,  he  was  much  in  the  trouble- 
some thoughts  of  the  sins  that  he  had  committed,  both  since 
•and  before  he  began  to  be  a  pilgrim.  'Twas  also  observed, 
that  he  was  troubled  with  apparitions  of  hobgoblins  and 
evil  spirits  ;  for  ever  and  anon  he  would  intimate  so  much 
>>y  words. 

Hopeful  therefore  here  had  much  ado  to  keep  his  brother's 

164 


CROSSING    THE     RIVER 

Bopeful  also  would  endeavour  to  comfort  htm.  saying,  "  Brother. 
T   tee   th«   aate." 


THEY  GET  OVER 

head  above  water  ;  yea,  sometimes  he  would  be  quite  gone  '. 
down,  and  then,  ere  awhile,  he  would  rise  up  again  half 
dead.  Hopeful  also  would  endeavour  to  comfort  him, 
saying,  Brother,  I  see  the  gate,  and  men  standing  by  it  to 
receive  us  ;  but  Christian  would  answer,  'Tis  you,  'tis  you 
they  wait  for  ;  you  have  been  Hopeful  ever  since  I  knew  you. 
And  so  have  you,  said  he  to  Christian.  Ah,  brother,  said 
he,  surely  if  I  was  right  He  would  now  arise  to  help  me  ; 
but  for  my  sins  He  hath  brought  me  into  the  snare,  and  hath 
left  me.  Then  said  Hopeful,  My  brother,  you  have  quite 
forgot  the  text  where  it  is  said  of  the  wicked,  There  is 
no  band  in  their  death,  but  their  strength  is  firm  ;  they  are 
not  troubled  as  other  men,  neither  are  they  plagued  like 
other  men.  These  troubles  and  distresses  that  you  go 
through  in  these  waters,  are  no  sign  that  God  hath  for- 
saken you  ;  but  are  sent  to  try  you,  whether  you  will  call 
to  mind  that  which  heretofore  you  have  received  of  His 
goodness,  and  live  upon  Him  in  your  distresses. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  was  in  a  muse 
awhile.  To  whom  also  Hopeful  added  these  words,  Be  of 
good  cheer,  Jesus  Christ  maketh  thee  whole.  And  with 
that  Christian  brake  out  with  a  loud  voice,  Oh,  I  see  Him 
again  ;  and  He  tells  me,  When  thou  ,,.  . 

Christian  de- 

passest   through   the    waters,   1   will    be     iivered  from  his 

•  11  11  it*  i  fears  in  death 

with  thee;  and  through  the  rivers,  they 
shall  not  overflow  thee.  Then  they  both  took  courage, 
and  the  enemy  was  after  that  as  still  as  a  stone,  until 
they  were  gone  over.  Christian  therefore  presently  found 
ground  to  stand  upon,  and  so  it  followed  that  the  rest 
of  the  river  was  but  shallow.  Thus  they  got  over. 

Now  upon  the  bank  of  the  river,  on  the  other  side,  they 
saw  the  two  shining  men  again,  who  there  waited  for  them. 
Wherefore  being  come  out  of  the  river,  they  saluted  them, 
saying,    We   are   ministering  spirits,  sent     Thean?elsdo 
forth  to  minister  for  those  that  shall  be     wait  for  them  so 
heirs  of  salvation.     Thus  they  went  along 
Cowards  the  gate.  world 

Now  you  must  note,  that  the  City  stood  upon  a  mighty 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

hill  5  but  the  pilgrims  went  up  that  hill  with  ease,  because 
they  had  these  two  men  to  lead  them  up  by  the  arms: 
They  have  put  a^so  they  had  left  their  mortal  garments 
off  mortality  behind  them  in  the  river ;  for  though  they 

went  in  with  them,  they  came  out  without  them.  They 
therefore  went  up  here  with  much  agility  and  speed, 
though  the  foundation  upon  which  the  City  was  framed 
was  higher  than  the  clouds ;  they  therefore  went  up 
through  the  regions  of  the  air,  sweetly  talking  as  they 
went,  being  comforted  because  they  safely  got  over  the 
river,  and  had  such  glorious  companions  to  attend  them. 

The  talk  that  they  had  with  the  shining  ones  was  about 
the  glory  of  the  place ;  who  told  them  that  the  beauty  and 
glory  of  it  was  inexpressible.  There,  said  they,  is  the 
Mount  Sion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  innumerable 
company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect.  You  are  going  now,  said  they,  to  the  paradise 
of  God,  wherein  you  shall  see  the  tree  of  life,  and 
eat  of  the  never-fading  fruits  thereof:  and  when  you 
come  there  you  shall  have  white  robes  given  you,  and 
your  walk  and  talk  shall  be  every  day  with  the  King, 
even  all  the  days  of  eternity.  There  you  shall  not  see 
again  such  things  as  you  saw  when  you  were  in  the  lower 
region  upon  the  earth :  to  wit,  sorrow,  sickness,  affliction, 
and  death ;  For  the  former  things  are  passed  away. 
You  are  going  now  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
and  to  the  prophets,  men  that  God  hath  taken  away 
from  the  evil  to  come,  and  that  are  now  resting  upon 
their  beds,  each  one  walking  in  his  righteousness.  The 
men  then  asked,  What  must  we  do  in  the  holy  place  ? 
To  whom  it  was  answered,  You  must  there  receive  the 
comfort  of  all  your  toil,  and  have  joy  for  all  your 
sorrow ;  you  must  reap  what  you  have  sown,  even  the 
fruit  of  all  your  prayers,  and  tears,  and  sufferings  for 
the  King  by  the  way.  In  that  place  you  must  wear 
crowns  of  gold,  and  enjoy  the  perpetual  sight  and 
visions  of  the  Holy  One  ;  for  there  you  shall  see  Him 
CtS  He  is.  There  also  you  shall  serve  Him  continually 

166 


THE  WELCOME  OF  ANGELS 

with  praise,  with  shouting  and  thanksgiving,  whom  you 
desired  to  serve  in  the  world,  though  with  much  difficulty, 
because  of  the  infirmity  of  your  flesh.  There  your 
eyes  shall  be  delighted  with  seeing,  and  your  ears  with 
hearing  the  pleasant  voice  of  the  Mighty  One.  There 
you  shall  enjoy  your  friends  again  that  are  gone  thither 
before  you ;  and  there  you  shall  with  joy  receive  even 
every  one  that  follows  into  the  holy  place  after  you. 
There  also  you  shall  be  clothed  with  glory  and  majesty, 
and  put  into  an  equipage  fit  to  ride  out  with  the  King 
of  Glory.  When  He  shall  come  with  sound  of  trumpet 
in  the  clouds,  as  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind,  you 
shall  come  with  Him  ;  and  when  He  shall  sit  upon  the 
throne  of  judgment,  you  shall  sit  by  Him  ;  yea,  and  when 
He  shall  pass  sentence  upon  all  the  workers  of  iniquity,  let 
them  be  angels  or  men,  you  also  shall  have  a  voice  in  that 
judgment  because  they  were  His  and  your  enemies.  Also, 
when  He  shall  again  return  to  the  City,  you  shall  go  too 
with  sound  of  trumpet,  and  be  ever  with  Him. 

Now  while  they  were  thus  drawing  towards  the  gate, 
behold  a  company  of  the  heavenly  host  came  out  to  meet 
them ;  to  whom  it  was  said  by  the  other  two  shining  ones, 
These  are  the  men  that  have  loved  our  Lord,  when  they 
were  in  the  world,  and  that  have  left  all  for  His  holy 
name ;  and  He  hath  sent  us  to  fetch  them,  and  we  have 
brought  them  thus  far  on  their  desired  journey,  that  they 
may  go  in  and  look  their  Redeemer  in  the  face  with  joy. 
Then  the  heavenly  host  gave  a  great  shout,  saying, 
Blessed  are  they  that  are  called  to  the  marriage-supper  of 
the  Lamb.  There  came  out  also  at  this  time  to  meet 
them  several  of  the  King's  trumpeters,  clothed  in  white 
and  shining  raiment,  who  with  melodious  noises  and  loud 
made  even  the  heavens  to  echo  with  their  sound.  These 
trumpeters  saluted  Christian  and  his  fellow  with  ten 
thousand  welcomes  from  the  world ;  and  this  they  did 
with  shouting  and  sound  of  trumpet. 

This  done,  they  compassed  them  round  on  every  side ; 
some  went  before,  some  behind,  and  some  on  the  right 

167. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

hand,  some  on  the  left  (as  'twere  to  guard  them  through 
the  upper  regions),  continually  sounding  as  they  went, 
with  melodious  noise,  in  notes  on  high ;  so  that  the  very 
sight  was  to  them  that  could  behold  it  as  if  heaven  itself 
was  come  down  to  meet  them.  Thus  therefore  they  walked 
on  together ;  and,  as  they  walked,  ever  and  anon  these 
trumpeters,  even  with  joyful  sound,  would,  by  mixing 
their  music  with  looks  and  gestures,  still  signify  to 
Christian  and  his  brother  how  welcome  they  were  into 
their  company,  and  with  what  gladness  they  came  to  meet 
them.  And  now  were  these  two  men,  as  'twere,  in  heaven, 
before  they  came  at  it,  being  swallowed  up  with  the  sight  of 
angels,  and  with  hearing  of  their  melodious  notes.  Here 
also  they  had  the  City  itself  in  view ;  and  they  thought 
they  heard  all  the  bells  therein  to  ring,  to  welcome  them 
thereto.  But,  above  all,  the  warm  and  joyful  thoughts 
that  they  had  about  their  own  dwelling  there  with  such 
company,  and  that  for  ever  and  ever,  oh,  by  what  tongue 
or  pen  can  their  glorious  joy  be  expressed  ! — Thus  they 
came  up  to  the  gate. 

Now  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  gate,  there  was 
written  over  it  in  letters  of  gold,  BLESSED  ARE  THEY 

THAT  DO  HlS  COMMANDMENTS,  THAT  THEY  MAY  HAVE 
RIGHT  TO  THE  TREE  OF  LIFE,  AND  MAY  ENTER  IN  THROUGH 
THE  GATES  INTO  THE  CITY. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  shining  men  bid  them 
call  at  the  gate :  the  which  when  they  did,  some  from 
above  looked  over  the  gate,  to  wit,  Enoch,  Moses,  and 
Elijah,  etc.,  to  whom  it  was  said,  These  pilgrims  are  come 
from  the  City  of  Destruction,  for  the  love  that  they  bear 
to  the  King  of  this  place  :  and  then  the  pilgrims  gave  in 
unto  them  each  man  his  certificate,  which  they  had  received 
in  the  beginning  ;  those  therefore  were  carried  in  to  the 
King,  who  when  He  had  read  them,  said,  Where  are  the 
men  ?  To  whom  it  was  answered,  They  are  standing 
without  the  gate.  The  King  then  commanded  to  open  the 
gate,  That  the  righteous  nation,  said  He,  that  keepeth 
truth  may  eater  in, 

168 


THE  CELESTIAL  CITY 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  these  two  men  went  in 
at  the  gate ;  and,  lo !  as  they  entered,  they  were  trans- 
figured \  and  they  had  raiment  put  on  that  shone  like  gold. 
There  were  also  that  met  them  with  harps  and  crowns, 
and  gave  them  to  them ;  the  harps  to  praise  withal,  and 
the  crowns  in  token  of  honour.  Then  I  heard  in  my  dream 
that  all  the  bells  in  the  City  rang  again  for  joy,  and  that  it 
was  said  unto  them,  Enter  ye  into  the  joy  of  our  Lord. 
I  also  heard  the  men  themselves  say  that  they  sang  with 
a  loud  voice,  saying,  Blessing,  honour,  glory,  and  power, 
be  to  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb 
for  ever  and  ever. 

Now,  just  as  the  gates  were  opened  to  let  in  the  men,  I 
looked  in  after  them,  and  behold,  the  City  shone  like  the 
sun ;  the  streets  also  were  paved  with  gold  ;  and  in  them 
walked  many  men,  with  crowns  on  their  heads,  palms  in 
their  hands,  and  golden  harps,  to  sing  praises  withal. 

There  were  also  of  them  that  had  wings,  and  they 
answered  one  another  without  intermission,  saying,  Holy, 
holy,  holy,  is  the  Lord  !  And  after  that  they  shut  up  the 
gates :  which  when  I  had  seen,  I  wished  myself  among 
them. 

Now,  while  I  was  gazing  upon  all  these  things,  I 
turned  my  head  to  look  back,  and  saw  Ignorance  come 
up  to  the  river  side ;  but  he  soon  got  over,  and  that 
without  half  that  difficulty  which  the  other  two  men 
had  met  with.  For  it  happened  that  there  was  then 
in  the  place  one  Vain-Hope,  a  ferryman,  that  with  his 
boat  helped  him  over;  so  he,  as  the  other  I  saw,  did 
ascend  the  hill,  to  come  up  to  the  gate  ;  only  he  came 
alone ;  neither  did  any  man  meet  him  with  the  least 
encouragement.  When  he  was  come  up  to  the  gate, 
he  looked  up  to  the  writing  that  was  above,  and  then 
began  to  knock,  supposing  that  entrance  should  have 
been  quickly  administered  to  him ;  but  he  was  asked 
by  the  men  that  looked  over  the  top  of  the  gate,  Whence 
came  you  ?  and  what  he  would  have  ?  He  answered, 

169 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

I  have  ate  and  drank  in  the  presence  of  the  King,  and 
He  has  taught  in  our  streets.  Then  they  asked  him 
for  his  certificate,  that  they  might  go  in  and  show  it 
to  the  King  :  so  he  fumbled  in  his  bosom  for  one,  and 
found  none.  Then  said  they,  Have  you  none  ?  but  the 
man  answered  never  a  word.  So  they  told  the  King, 
but  He  would  not  come  down  to  see  him,  but  commanded 
the  two  shining  ones,  that  conducted  Christian  and  Hope- 
ful to  the  City,  to  go  out  and  take  Ignorance,  and  bind 
him  hand  and  foot,  and  have  him  away.  Then  they  took 
him  up,  and  carried  him  through  the  air,  to  the  door  that 
I  saw  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there.  Then 
I  saw  that  there  was  a  way  to  hell,  even  from  the  gates  of 
heaven,  as  well  as  from  the  City  of  Destruction.  So  I 
awoke,  and  behold  it  was  a  dream. 


THE  CONCLUSION. 

Now,  reader,  I  have  told  my  dream  to  thee, 

See  if  thou  canst  interpret  it  to  me. 

Or  to  thyself,  or  neighbour ;   but  take  heed 

Of  misinterpreting,  for  that,  instead 

Of  doing  good,  will  but  thyself  abuse: 

By  misinterpreting,  evil  ensues. 

Take  heed  also  that  thou  be  not  extreme 
In  playing  with  the  outside  of  my  dream: 
Nor  let  my  figure  or  similitude 
Put  thee  into  a  laughter,  or  a  feud; 
Leave  this  for  boys  and  fools ;  but  as  for  thee 
Do  thou  the  substance  of  my  matter  see. 

Put  by  the  curtains,  look  within  my  vail, 
Turn  up  my  metaphors,  and  do  not  fail, 
There,  if  thou  seekest  them,  such  things  to  find 
As  will  be  helpful  to  an  honest  mind. 

What  of  my  dross  thou  findest  there,  be  bold 
To  throw  away,  but  yet  preserve  the  gold. 
What  if  my  gold  be  wrapped  up  in  ore? 
None  throws  away  the  apple  for  the  core. 
But  if  thou  shalt  cast  all  away  as  vain, 
1  know  not  but  'twill  make  me  dream  again. ) 


170 


THE 

PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

FROM 

THIS  WORLD  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  TO  COME 
THE   SECOND  PART 

DELIVERED   UNDER   THE    SIMILITUDE   OP   A   DREAM 
WHEREIN     IS     SET     FORTH     THE     MANNER     OF     THE    SETTING     OUT    OF 

CHRISTIAN'S  WIFE  AND  CHILDREN  ;  THEIR  DANGEROUS  JOURNEY, 
AND  SAFE  ARRIVAL  AT  THE  DESIRED  COUNTRY 

BY  JOHN  BUNYAN 
1  have  used  similitudes,  Hos.  xii.  SO 


THE 

AUTHOR'S  WAY 

OF   SENDING   FORTH 

HIS  SECOND  PART  OF  THE  PILGRIM 

Go  now,  my  little  Book,  to  every  place 

Where  my  first  Pilgrim  has  but  shown  his  face  j 

Call  at  their  door  :  if  any  say,  Who's  there  ? 

Then  answer  thou,  Christiana  is  here. 

If  they  bid  thee  come  in,  then  enter  thou, 

With  all  thy  boys  ;  and  then,  as  thou  know'st  how, 

Tell  who  they  are,  also  from  whence  they  came  : 

Perhaps  they'll  know  them  by  their  looks  or  name. 

But  if  they  should  not,  ask  them  yet  again, 

If  formerly  they  did  not  entertain 

One  Christian,  a  Pilgrim  ?     If  they  say 

They  did,  and  were  delighted  in  his  way ; 

Then  let  them  know,  that  those  related  were 

Unto  him ;  yea,  his  wife  and  children  are. 

Tell  them  that  they  have  left  their  house  and  home, 
Are  turned  Pilgrims ;  seek  a  world  to  come  : 
That  they  have  met  with  hardships  in  the  way : 
That  they  do  meet  with  troubles  night  and  day  : 
That  they  have  trod  on  serpents,  fought  with  devils 
Have  also  overcome  a  many  evils : 
Yea,  tell  them  also  of  the  next  who  have, 
Of  love  to  pilgrimage,  been  stout  and  brave 
Defenders  of  that  way  ;  and  how  they  still 
Refuse  this  world,  to  do  their  Father's  will. 

'73 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Go  tell  them  also  of  those  dainty  things 
That  pilgrimage  unto  the  Pilgrim  brings. 
Let  them  acquainted  be,  too,  how  they  are 
Beloved  of  their  King,  under  His  care ; 
What  goodly  mansions  for  them  He  provides, 
Though  they,  meet  with  rough  winds  and  swelling  tides, 
How  brave  a  calm  they  will  enjoy  at  last, 
Who  to  their  Lord,  and  by  His  ways  hold  fast. 

Perhaps  with  heart  and  hand  they  will  embrace 
Thee  as  they  did  my  firstling,  and  will  grace 
Thee  and  thy  fellows  with  such  cheer  and  fare, 
As  show  will,  they  of  Pilgrims  lovers  are. 

OBJECTION   I. 

But  how  if  they  will  not  believe  of  me 
That  I  am  truly  thine  ?  'cause  some  there  be 
That  counterfeit  the  Pilgrim  and  his  name, 
Seek,  by  disguise,  to  seem  the  very  same ; 
And  by  that  means,  have  wrought  themselves  into 
The  hands  and  houses  of  I  know  not  who. 


ANSWER. 

'Tis  true,  some  have  of  late,  to  counterfeit 
My  Pilgrim,  to  their  own  my  title  set ; 
Yea,  others  half  my  name,  and  title  too, 
Have  stitched  to  their  book  to  make  them  do; 
But  yet  they,  by  their  features,  do  declare 
Themselves  not  mine  to  be,  whose  e'er  they  are. 

If  such  thou  meet'st  with,  then  thine  only  way, 
Before  them  all,  is  to  say  out  thy  say 
In  thine  own  native  language,  wkich  no  man 
Now  useth,  nor  with  ease  dissemble  can. 

If,  after  all,  they  still  of  you  shall  doubt, 
Thinking  that  you  like  gipsies  go  about, 
In  naughty  wise  the  country  to  defile  ; 
Or  that  you  seek  good  people  to  beguile 

174 


ACCOUNT  OF  SECOND  PART 

With  things  unwarrantable — send  for  me, 
And  I  will  testify  you  pilgrims  be  ; 
Yea,  I  will  testify  that  only  you 
My  Pilgrims  are,  and  that  alone  will  do. 

OBJECTION   II. 

But  yet,  perhaps,  I  may  inquire  for  him 
Of  those  that  wish  him  damned  life  and  limb : 
What  shall  I  do,  when  I  at  such  a  door 
For  Pilgrims  ask,  and  they  shall  rage  the  more  ? 

ANSWER. 

Fright  not  thyself,  my  Book,  for  such  bugbears 
Are  nothing  else  but  ground  for  groundless  fears. 
My  Pilgrim's  book  has  travelled  sea  and  land, 
Yet  could  I  never  come  to  understand 
That  it  was  slighted,  or  turned  out  of  door, 
By  any  kingdom,  were  they  rich  or  poor. 

In  France  and  Flanders,  where  men  kill  each  other, 
My  Pilgrim  is  esteemed  a  friend,  a  brother. 

In  Holland  too,  'tis  said,  as  I  am  told, 
My  Pilgrim  is  with  some  worth  more  than  gold. 

Highlanders  and  wild  Irish  can  agree 
My  Pilgrim  should  familiar  with  them  be. 

'Tis  in  New  England  under  such  advance, 
Receives  there  so  much  loving  countenance, 
As  to  be  trimmed,  new  clothed,  and  decked  with  gems, 
That  it  might  show  its  features  and  its  limbs. 
Yet  more  ;  so  comely  doth  my  Pilgrim  walk, 
That  of  him  thousands  daily  sing  and  talk. 

If  you  draw  nearer  home,  it  will  appear 
My  Pilgrim  knows  no  ground  of  shame  or  fear. 
City  and  country  will  him  entertain, 
With,  Welcome,  Pilgrim ;  yea,  they  can't  refrain 
From  smiling,  if  my  Pilgrim  be  but  by, 
Or  shows  his  head  in  any  company. 

175 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Brave  gallants  do  my  Pilgrim  hug  and  love, 
Esteem  it  much ;  yea,  value  it  above 
Things  of  a  greater  bulk;  yea,  with  delight, 
Say,  my  lark's  leg  is  better  than  a  kite. 

Young  ladies  and  young  gentlewomen  too 
Do  no  small  kindness  to  my  Pilgrim  shew : 
Their  cabinets,  their  bosoms,  and  their  hearts, 
My  Pilgrim  has ;  #cause  he  to  them  imparts 
His  pretty  riddles  in  such  wholesome  strains, 
As  yield  them  profit  double  to  their  pains 
Of  reading ;  yea,  I  think  I  may  be  bold 
To  say,  some  prize  him  far  above  their  gold. 

The  very  children  that  do  walk  the  street, 
If  they  do  but  my  holy  Pilgrim  meet, 
Salute  him  will ;  will  wish  him  well,  and  say, 
He  is  the  only  stripling  of  the  day. 

They  that  have  never  seen  him,  yet  admire 
What  they  have  heard  of  him,  and  much  desire 
To  have  his  company,  and  hear  him  tell 
Those  Pilgrim  stories  which  he  knows  so  well. 

Yea,  some  that  did  not  love  him  at  the  first, 
But  called  him  fool  and  noddy,1  say  they  must, 
Now  they  have  seen  and  heard  him,  him  commend, 
And  to  those  whom  they  love,  they  do  him  send. 

Wherefore,  my  Second  Part,  thou  need'st  not  be 
Afraid  to  show  thy  head :  none  can  hurt  thee, 
That  wish  but  well  to  him  that  went  before  ; 
'Cause  thou  com'st  after  with  a  second  store 
Of  things  as  good,  as  rich,  as  profitable, 
For  young,  for  old,  for  stagg'ring  and  for  stable. 

OBJECTION   III. 

But  some  there  be  that  say,  He  laughs  too  loud. 
And  some  do  say,  His  head  is  in  a  cloud. 
Some  say,  His  words  and  stories  are  so  dark, 
They  know  not  how  by  them  to  find  his  mark, 

1  A  simpleton. 

176 


ACCOUNT  OF  SECOND  PART 


ANSWER 

One  may  (I  think)  say,  Both  his  laughs  and  cries 
May  well  be  guessed  at  by  his  wat'ry  eyes. 
Some  things  are  of  that  nature  as  to  make 
One's  fancy  chuckle,  while  his  heart  doth  ache. 
When  Jacob  saw  his  Rachel  with  the  sheep, 
He  did,  at  the  same  time,  both  kiss  and  weep. 

Whereas  some  say,  A  cloud  is  in  his  headj 
That  doth  but  show  Wisdom's  covered 
With  its  own  mantles,  and  to  stir  the  mind 
To  a  search  after  what  it  fain  would  find. 
Things  that  seem  to  be  hid  in  words  obscure, 
Do  but  the  godly  mind  the  more  allure 
To  study  what  those  sayings  should  contain, 
That  speak  to  us  in  such  a  cloudy  strain. 

>I  also  know  a  dark  similitude 
Will  on  the  fancy  more  itself  intrude, 
And  will  stick  faster  in  the  heart  and  head, 
Than  things  from  similes  not  borrowed. 

Wherefore,  my  Book,  let  no  discouragement 
Hinder  thy  travels  :  behold,  thou  art  sent 
To  friends,  not  foes  ;  to  friends  that  will  give  place 
To  thee,  thy  Pilgrims,  and  thy  words  embrace. 
Besides,  what  my  first  Pilgrim  left  concealed, 
Thou,  my  brave  second  Pilgrim,  hast  revealed ! 
What  Christian  left  locked  up,  and  went  his  way, 
Sweet  Christiana  opens  with  her  key. 

OBJECTION   IV. 

But  some  love  not  the  method  of  your  first 
Romance  they  count  it,  throw't  away  as  dust. 
If  I  should  meet  with  such,  what  should  I  say  ? 
Must  I  slight  them  as  they  slight  me,  or  nay  ? 

ANSWER. 

My  Christiana,  if  with  such  thou  meet, 
By  all  means,  in  all  loving  wise  them  greet ; 

177  i 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Render  them  not  reviling  for  revile  ; 
But  if  they  frown,  I  pr'ythee,  on  them  smile : 
Perhaps  'tis  nature,  or  some  ill  report, 
Has  made  them  thus  despise,  or  thus  retort. 

Some  love  no  cheese,  some  love  no  fish  ;  and  some 
Love  not  their  friends,  not  their  own  house  or  home : 
Some  start  at  pig,  slight  chicken,  love  not  fowl, 
More  than  they  love  a  cuckoo  or  an  owl. 
Leave  such,  my  Christiana,  to  their  choice, 
And  seek  those  who  to  find  thee  will  rejoice : 
By  no  means  strive,  but  in  most  humble  wise 
Present  thee  to  them  in  thy  Pilgrim's  guise. 

Go  then,  my  little  Book,  and  show  to  all 
That  entertain  and  bid  thee  weJcome  shall, 
What  thou  shalt  keep  close  shut  up  from  the  rest : 
And  wish  what  thou  shalt  show  them  may  be  blessed 
To  them  for  good,  may  make  them  choose  to  be 
Pilgrims  better  by  far  than  thee  or  me. 

Go  then,  I  say,  tell  all  men  who  thou  art : 
Say,  I  am  Christiana ;  and  my  part 
Is  now,  with  my  four  sons,  to  tell  you  what 
It  is  for  men  to  take  a  Pilgrim's  lot. 

Go  also,  tell  them  who  and  what  they  be 
That  now  do  go  on  pilgrimage  with  thee  ; 
Say,  Here's  my  neighbour  Mercy  ;  she  is  one 
That  has  long  time  with  me  a  pilgrim  gone  5 
Come  see  her  in  her  virgin  face,  and  learn 
'Twixt  idle  ones  and  pilgrims  to  discern. 
Yea,  let  young  damsels  learn  of  her  to  prize 
The  world  which  is  to  come,  in  any  wise. 
When  little  tripping  maidens  follow  God, 
And  leave  old  doting  sinners  to  His  rod, 
'Tis  like  those  days  wherein  the  young  ones  cried, 
Hosanna !  to  whom  the  old  ones  did  deride. 

Next  tell  them  of  old  Honest,  whom  you  found, 
With  his  white  hairs,  treading  the  Pilgrims'  ground  5 
Yea,  tell  them  how  plain-hearted  this  man  was  j 
How  after  his  good  Lord  he  bare  his  cross. 

178 


ACCOUNT  OF  SECOND  PART 

Perhaps  with  some  grey  head  this  may  prevail 
With  Christ  to  fall  in  love,  and  sin  bewail. 

Tell  them  also,  how  Master  Fearing  went 
On  pilgrimage,  and  how  the  time  he  spent 
In  solitariness,  with  fears  and  cries ; 
And  how  at  last  he  won  the  joyful  prize. 
He  was  a  good  man,  though  much  down  in  spirit  j 
He  is  a  good  man,  and  doth  life  inherit. 

Tell  them  of  Master  Feeble-Mind  also, 
Who  not  before,  but  still  behind  would  go : 
Show  them  also,  how  he  had  like  been  slain, 
And  how  one  Great-Heart  did  his  life  regain. 
This  man  was  true  of  heart,  though  weak  in  grace,N 
One  might  true  godliness  read  in  his  face. 

Then  tell  them  of  Master  Ready-to-Halt, 
A  man  with  crutches,  but  much  without  fault : 
Tell  them  how  Master  Feeble-Mind  and  he 
Did  love,  and  in  opinions  much  agree : 
And  let  all  know,  though  weakness  was  their  chance, 
Yet  sometimes  one  could  sing,  the  other  dance. 

Forget  not  Master  Valiant-for-the-Truth, 
That  man  of  courage,  though  a  very  youth. 
Tell  every  one  his  spirit  was  so  stout, 
No  man  could  ever  make  him  face  about ; 
And  how  Great-Heart  and  he  could  not  forbear,N 
But  put  down  Doubting  Castle,  slay  Despair ! 

Overlook  not  Master  Despondency, 
Nor  Much-Afraid  his  daughter,  though  they  lie 
Under  such  mantles,  as  may  make  them  look 
(With  some)  as  if  their  God  had  them  forsook. 
They  softly  went,  but  sure ;  and  at  the  end, 
Found  that  the  Lord  of  Pilgrims  was  their  friend. 

When  thou  hast  told  the  world  of  all  these  things, 
Then  turn  about,  my  Book,  and  touch  these  strings ; 
Which,  if  but  touched,  will  such  music  make, 
They'll  make  a  cripple  dance,  a  giant  quake. 

Those  riddles  that  lie  couched  within  thy  breast, 
Freely  propound,  expound  ;  and  for  the  rest 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Of  thy  mysterious  lines,  let  them  remain 

For  those  whose  nimble  fancies  shall  them  gain\ 

Now  may  this  little  Book  a  blessing  be 
To  those  that  love  this  little  Book  and  me ; 
And  may  its  buyer  have  no  cause  to  say, 
His  money  is  but  lost,  or  thrown  away. 
Yea,  may  this  second  Pilgrim  yield  that  fruit 
As  may  with  each  good  Pilgrim's  fancy  suit ; 
And  may  it  persuade  some  that  go  astray, 
To  turn  their  foot  and  heart  to  the  right  way, 

Is  the  hearty  prayer  of 

The  Author, 


Ife 


THE 

PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS 

IN  THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM 


THE  SECOND  PART 


COURTEOUS  COMPANIONS, 

SOME  time  since,  to  tell  you  my  dream  that  I  had  of  Christian 
the  Pilgrim,  and  of  his  dangerous  journey  toward  the 
Celestial  Country,  was  pleasant  to  me,  and  profitable  to 
you.  I  told  you  then  also  what  I  saw  concerning  his  wife 
and  children,  and  how  unwilling  they  were  to  go  with  him 
on  pilgrimage  ;  insomuch  that  he  was  forced  to  go  on  his 
progress  without  them ;  for  he  durst  not  run  the  danger 
of  that  destruction  which  he  feared  would  come  by  staying 
with  them  in  the  City  of  Destruction :  wherefore,  as  I  then 
showed  you,  he  left  them  and  departed. 

Now  it  hath  so  happened,  through  the  multiplicity  of 
business,  that  I  have  been  much  hindered  and  kept  back 
from  my  wonted  travels  into  those  parts  whence  he  went, 
and  so  could  not,  till  now,  obtain  an  opportunity  to  make 
further  inquiry  after  whom  he  left  behind,  that  I  might 
give  you  an  account  of  them.  But  having  had  some 
concerns  that  way  of  late,  I  went  down  again  thitherward. 
Now  having  taken  up  my  lodgings  in  a  wood  about  a  mile 
off  the  place,  as  I  slept,  I  dreamed  again. 

And,  as  I  was  in  my  dream,  behold,  an  aged  gentlenv*n 
came  by  where  I  lay  ;  and  because  he  was  to  go  some  par,, 
of  the  way  that  I  was  travelling,  methought  I  got  up  and 
went  with  him.  So  as  we  walked,  and  as  travellers  usually 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

do,  I  was  as  if  we  fell  into  discourse  ;  and  our  talk 
happened  to  be  about  Christian  and  his  travels ;  for  thus 
I  began  with  the  old  man : 

Sir,  said  I,  what  town  is  that  there  below,  that  lieth  on 
the  left  hand  of  our  way  ? 

Then  said  Mr  Sagacity  (for  that  was  his  name),  It  is  the 
City  of  Destruction,  a  populous  place,  but  possessed  with 
a  very  ill-conditioned  and  idle  sort  of  people. 

I  thought  that  was  that  city,  quoth  I ;  I  went  once 
myself  through  that  town ;  and  therefore  know  that  this 
report  you  give  of  it  is  true. 

Sag".  Too  true  !  I  wish  I  could  speak  truth  in  speaking 
better  of  them  that  dwell  therein. 

Well,  sir,  quoth  I,  then  I  perceive  you  to  be  a  well- 
meaning  man,  and  so  one  that  takes  pleasure  to  hear  and 
tell  of  that  which  is  good.  Pray,  did  you  never  hear  what 
happened  to  a  man  some  time  ago  in  this  town  (whose 
name  was  Christian),  that  went  on  pilgrimage  up  toward 
the  higher  regions  ? 

Sag1.  Hear  of  him!  Ay,  and  I  also  heard  of  the 
molestations,  troubles,  wars,  captivities,  cries,  groans, 
frights,  and  fears,  that  he  met  with  and  had  in  his 
journey.  Besides,  I  must  tell  you,  all  our  country 
rings  of  him :  there  are  but  few  houses  that  have  heard 
of  him  and  his  doings,  but  have  sought  after  and  got  the 
records  of  his  pilgrimage  ;  yea,  I  think  I  may  say,  that 
his  hazardous  journey  has  got  a  many  well-wishers  to  his 
ways  ;  for,  though  when  he  was  here  he  was  fool  in 
every  man's  mouth,  vet  now  he  is  gone  he 

Christians  are  •     t  •    t_i  i     i       rn        T-»       *  •         •  t 

well  spoken  of  is  highly  commended  or  all.  ror  tis  said 
though  called  he  lives  bravely  where  he  is  :  ye*,  many 

a^e1  hereile  they        °^  tnem  t^iat  are  resolved  never  to   run 
his  hazards,  yet  have  their  mouths  water 
at  his  gains. 

They  may,  quoth  I,  well  think,  if  they  think  anything 
that  is  true,  that  he  liveth  well  where  he  is ;  for  he  now 
lives  at,  and  in  the  Fountain  of  life,  and  has  what  he  has 
without  labour  and  sorrow,  for  there  is  no  grief  mixed 


HAPPINESS  OF  CHRISTIAN 

therewith.  But,  pray,  what  talk  have  the  people  about 
him  ? 

Sag.  Talk!  the  people  talk  strangely  about  him: 
some  say  that  he  now  walks  in  white;  that  he  has 
a  chain  of  gold  about  his  neck;  that  he  has  a  crown 
of  gold  beset  with  pearls  upon  his  head :  others  say, 
that  the  shining  ones,  that  sometimes  showed  themselves 
to  him  in  his  journey,  are  become  his  companions,  and 
that  he  is  as  familiar  with  them  in  the  place  where  he 
is,  as  here  one  neighbour  is  with  another.  Besides,  'tis 
confidently  affirmed  concerning  him,  that  the  King  of 
the  place  where  he  is,  has  bestowed  upon  him  already 
a  very  rich  and  pleasant  dwelling  at  court,  and  that  he 
every  day  eateth  and  drinketh,  and  walketh  and  talketh 
with  Him,  and  receiveth  of  the  smiles  and  favours  of 
Him  that  is  Judge  of  all  there.  Moreover,  it  is  ex- 
pected of  some,  that  his  Prince,  the  Lord  of  that  country, 
will  shortly  come  into  these  parts,  and  will  know 
the  reason,  if  they  can  give  any,  why  his  neighbours 
set  so  little  by  him,  and  had  him  so  much  in  derision, 
when  they  perceived  that  he  would  be  a  pilgrim. 

For  they  say  that  now  he  is  so  in  the  affections  of  his 
Prince,  and  that  his  Sovereign  is  so  much  „, 

Christian's  King: 

concerned  with  the  indignities  that  were     win  take  Chris- 
cast   upon  Christian  when   he   became   a 
pilgrim,  that    He   will   look   upon   all   as   if  done   unto 
Himself;   and   no   marvel,   for   'twas   for   the   love   that 
he  had  to  his  Prince  that  he  ventured  as  he  did. 

I  dare  say,  quoth  I,  I  am  glad  on't ;  I  am  glad  for 
the  poor  man's  sake,  for  that  now  he  has  rest  from  his 
labour,  and  for  that  he  now  reapeth  the  benefit  of  his 
tears  with  joy ;  and  for  that  he  is  got  beyond  the 
gun-shot  of  his  enemies,  and  is  out  of  the  reach  01 
them  that  hate  him.  I  also  am  glad  for  that  a  rumour 
of  these  things  is  noised  abroad  in  this  country;  who 
can  tell  but  that  it  may  work  some  good  effect  on  some 
that  are  left  behind?  But,  pray,  sir,  while  it  is  fresh 
in  my  mind,  do  you  hear  anything  of  his  wife  and 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

children  ?  Poor  hearts !  I  wonder  in  my  mind  what 
they  do. 

Sag.  Who  ?     Christiana  and  her  sons  ?    They  are  like 
to  do  as  well  as  Christian  did  himself;  for 

Good  tidings  of  .  ,      ,  , ,      .          .    ,       r      ,          i       >. 

Christian's  wife  though  they  all  played  the  fool  at  the  first, 
and  would  by  no  means  be  persuaded  by 
either  the  tears  or  entreaties  of  Christian,  yet  second 
thoughts  have  wrought  wonderfully  with  them :  so  they 
have  packed  up,  and  are  also  gone  after  him. 

Better  and  better,  quoth  I :  but,  what !  wife,  and 
children,  and  all  ? 

Sag.  'Tis  true :  I  can  give  you  an  account  of  the 
matter,  for  I  was  upon  the  spot  at  the  instant,  and  was 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  whole  affair. 

Then,  said  I,  a  man,  it  seems,  may  report  it  for  a 
truth. 

Sag.  You  need  not  fear  to  affirm  it :  I  mean  that  they 
are  all  gone  on  pilgrimage,  both  the  good  woman  and 
her  four  boys.  And  being  we  are,  as  I  perceive,  going 
some  considerable  way  together,  I  will  give  you  an 
account  of  the  whole  matter. 

This  Christiana  (for  that  was  her  name  from  the  day 
that  she  with  her  children  betook  themselves  to  a  pilgrim's 
life),  after  her  husband  was  gone  over  the  river,  and  she 
could  hear  of  him  no  more,  her  thoughts  began  to  work 
in  her  mind.  First,  for  that  she  had  lost  her  husband, 
and  for  that  the  loving  bond  of  that  relation  was  utterly 
broken  betwixt  them.  For  you  know,  said  he  to  me, 
nature  can  do  no  less  but  entertain  the  living  with  many 
a  heavy  cogitation,  in  the  remembrance  of  the  loss  of 

Markthis,youthat  J°™g  ™1*™™'  ™s,  therefore,  of  her 
are  churls  to  your  husband  did  cost  her  many  a  tear,  nut 
godly  relations  tkjs  wag  not  ,jj .  for  Christiana  did  also 

begin  to  consider  with  herself,  whether  her  unbecoming 
behaviour  towards  her  husband  was  not  one  cause  that 
she  saw  him  no  more,  and  that  in  such  sort  he  was  taken 
away  from  her.  And  upon  this  came  into  her  mind,  by 
swarms,  all  her  unkind,  unnatural,  and  ungodly  carriages 


CHRISTIANA'S  DREAM 

to  her  dear  friend ;  which  also  clogged  her  conscience 
und  did  load  her  with  guilt.  She  was,  moreover,  much 
broken  with  recalling  to  remembrance  the  restless  groans, 
brinish  tears,  and  self-bemoanings  of  her  husband,  and 
how  she  did  harden  her  heart  against  all  his  entreaties, 
and  loving  persuasions  of  her  and  her  sons  to  go  with 
him;  yea,  there  was  not  anything  that  Christian  either 
said  to  her,  or  did  before  her,  all  the  while  that  his 
burden  did  hang  on  his  back,  but  it  returned  upon 
her  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  rent  the  caul  of  her 
heart  in  sunder;  specially  that  bitter  outcry  of  his, 
"What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?  did  ring  in  her  ears 
most  dolefully. 

Then  said  she  to  her  children,  Sons,  we  are  all  undone. 
I  have  sinned  away  your  father,  and  he  is  gone :  he  would 
have  had  us  with  him,  but  I  would  not  go  myself:  I  also 
have  hindered  you  of  life.  With  that  the  boys  fell  all 
into  tears,  and  cried  out  to  go  after  their  father.  Oh ! 
said  Christiana,  that  it  had  been  but  our  lot  to  go  with 
him  !  then  had  it  fared  well  with  us,  beyond  what  'tis 
like  to  do  now.  For,  though  I  formerly  foolishly 
imagined,  concerning  the  troubles  of  your  father,  that 
they  proceeded  of  a  foolish  fancy  that  he  had,  or  for  that 
he  was  overrun  with  melancholy  humours ;  yet  now 
'twill  not  out  of  my  mind,  but  that  they  sprang  from 
another  cause  ;  to  wit,  for  that  the  light  of  life  was 
given  to  him,  by  the  help  of  which,  as  I  perceive,  he 
has  escaped  the  snares  of  death.  Then  they  all  wept 
again,  and  cried  out,  Oh  !  woe  worth  the  day ! 

The  next  night  Christiana  had  a  dream ;  and,  behold, 
she   saw   as   if  a   broad   parchment   was     Christiana's 
opened   before   her,    in   which   were   re-     dream 
corded  the  sum  of  her  ways  ;    and  the  crimes,   as  she 
thought,  looked  very  black  upon  her.     Then  she  cried 
out  aloud  in  her  sleep,  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me,  a 
sinner  !  and  the  little  children  heard  her. 

After  this,  she  thought  she  saw  two  very  ill-favoured 
ones  standing  by  her  bed-side,  and  saying,  What  shall  we 

J18-; 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

do  with  this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  out  for  mercy,  waking 
Mark  this:  this  is  and  sleeping  5  if  she  be  suffered  to  go  on 
the  quintessence  as  she  begins,  we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have 
lost  her  husband,  therefore  we  must, 
by  one  way  or  other,  seek  to  take  her  off  from  the  thoughts 
of  what  shall  be  hereafter,  else  all  the  world  cannot  help 
but  she  will  become  a  pilgrim. 

Now  she  awoke  in  a  great  sweat ;  also  a  trembling  was 
upon  her ;  but  after  a  while  she  fell  to  sleeping  again. 
And  then  she  thought  she  saw  Christian  her  husband  in  a 
Help  ag-ainst  dis-  place  of  bliss  among  many  immortals,  with 
couragement  a  harp  in  his  hand,  standing  and  playing 

upon  it  before  One  that  sat  upon  a  throne,  with  a  rainbow 
about  His  head.  She  saw  also,  as  if  he  bowed  his  head 
with  his  face  to  the  paved  work  that  was  under  his  Prince's 
feet,  saying,  I  heartily  thank  my  Lord  and  King  for 
bringing  of  me  into  this  place.  Then  shouted  a  company  of 
them  that  stood  round  about,  and  harped  with  their  harps  5 
but  no  man  living  could  tell  what  they  said  but  Christian 
and  his  companions. 

Next  morning,  when  she  was  up,  had  prayed  to  God, 
and  talked  with  her  children  a  while,  one  knocked  hard 
at  the  door;  to  whom  she  spake  out,  saying,  If  thou 
comest  in  God's  name,  come  in.  So  he  said,  Amen, 
and  opened  the  door,  and  saluted  her  with,  Peace  be  to 
this  house.  The  which  when  he  had  done,  he  said, 
Christiana,  knowest  thou  wherefore  I  am  come  ?  Then 
she  blushed  and  trembled ;  also  her  heart  began  to 
wax  warm  with  desires  to  know  whence  he  came,  and 
what  was  his  errand  to  her.  So  he  said  unto  her,  My 
name  is  Secret ;  I  dwell  with  those  that  are  on  high.  It 
is  talked  of  where  I  dwell  as  if  thou  hadst  a  desire  to  go 
Convictions  se-  thither  :  also  there  is  a  report  that  thou  art 
conded  with  fresh  aware  of  the  evil  thou  hast  formerly  done 
relSSnew  to°  '  to  thy  husband,  in  hardening  of  thy  heart 
pardon  against  his  way,  and  in  keeping  of  these 

thy  babes  in  their  ignorance.  Christiana,  the  Merciful  One 
has  sent  me  to  tell  thee,  that  Ke  is  a  God  ready  to 

186 


CHRISTIANA'S    VISITOR 

So  she  cried,  out  to  her  visitor,  "  Sir,  will  you  carry  me  and  mg 

children  with  you,  that  we  also  may  go  and  worship 

this  Kinot" 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

therewith.  He  moreover  proceeded,  and  said:  So 
Christiana  called  her  sons  together,  and  began  thus  to 
Christiana  prays  address  herself  unto  them:  My  sons,  I 
weii  for  her  have,  as  you  may  perceive,  been  of  late 

under  much  exercise  in  my  soul  about  the 
death  of  your  father :  not  for  that  I  doubt  at  all  of  his 
happiness  ;  for  I  am  satisfied  now  that  he  is  well.  I  have 
also  been  much  affected  with  the  thoughts  of  mine  own 
state  and  yours,  which  I  verily  believe  is  by  nature 
miserable.  My  carriages  also  to  your  father  in  his  distress 
is  a  great  load  to  my  conscience  \  for  I  hardened  both  mine 
own  heart  and  yours  against  him,  and  refused  to  go  with 
him  on  pilgrimage. 

The  thoughts  of  these  things  would  now  kill  me 
outright,  but  that  for  a  dream  which  I  had  last  night,  and 
but  that  for  the  encouragement  that  this  stranger  has 
given  me  this  morning.  Come,  my  children,  let  us  pack 
up,  and  be  gone  to  the  gate  that  leads  to  the  Celestial 
Country,  that  we  may  see  your  father,  and  be  with  him 
and  his  companions  in  peace,  according  to  the  laws  of 
that  land. 

Then  did  her  children  burst  out  into  tears,  for  joy  that 
the  heart  of  their  mother  was  so  inclined.  So  their  visitor 
bid  them  farewell ;  and  they  began  to  prepare  to  set  out 
for  their  journey. 

But  while  they  were  thus  about  to  be  gone,  two 
of  the  women  that  were  Christiana's  neighbours,  came 
up  to  her  house,  and  knocked  at  her  door.  To  whom  she 
said  as  before,  If  you  come  in  God's  name,  come  in.  At 
Christiana's  new  ll?is  the  women  were  stunned ;  for  this 
language  stunds  kind  of  language  they  used  not  to  hear, 

her  old  neighbours  j  r  i        i«  c 

or  to  perceive  to  drop  from  the  lips  or 
Christiana.  Yet  they  came  in ;  but  behold,  they  found 
the  good  woman  a  preparing  to  be  gone  from  her 
house. 

So  they  began,  and  said,  Neighbour,  pray  what  is  your 
meaning  by  this  ? 

Christiana   answered,   and  said  to  the  eldest  of  them, 
1 88 


MERCY    AND    TIMOROUS    CALL    ON    CHRISTIANA 

Two  of  the  women  that  were  Christiana's  neighbours  came  up  to 

her  huuse  and  knocked  at  the  door. 


CHRISTIANA  AND  TIMOROUS 

whose  name  was   Mrs  Timorous,  I  am  preparing  for  a 
journey. 

(This  Timorous  was  daughter  to  him  that  met  Christian 
upon  the  Hill  Difficulty,  and  would  a  Timorous  comes  to 
had  him  gone  back  for  fear  of  the  ™*  „$}*£% 

lions.)  her  neighbours 

Tim.     For  what  journey,  I  pray  you  ? 

Chr.  Even  to  go  after  my  good  husband.  And  with 
that  she  fell  a  weeping. 

Tim.  I  hope  not  so,  good  neighbour,  pray,  for  your  poor 
children's  sakes,  do  not  so  unwomanly  cast  away  yourself. 

Chr.  Nay,  my  children  shall  go  with  me  5  not  one  of 
them  is  willing  to  stay  behind. 

Tim.  I  wonder  in  my  very  heart,  what  or  who  has 
brought  you  into  this  mind ! 

Chr.  O  neighbour !  knew  you  but  as  much  as  I  do,  I 
doubt  not  but  that  you  would  go  with  me. 

Tim.  Prithee,  what  new  knowledge  hast  thou  got 
that  so  worketh  off  thy  mind  from  thy  friends,  and  that 
tempteth  thee  to  go  nobody  knows  where? 

Chr.  Then  Christiana  replied,  I  have  been  sorely  afflicted 
since  my  husband's  departure  from  me ;  but  specially  since 
he  went  over  the  river.  But  that  which 
troubleth  me  most  is,  my  churlish  carriages 
to  him  when  he  was  under  his  distress.  Besides,  I  am 
now  as  he  was  then,  nothing  will  serve  me  but  going  on 
pilgrimage.  I  was  a  dreamed  last  night  that  I  saw  him. 
Oh  that  my  soul  was  with  him  !  He  dwelleth  in  the 
presence  of  the  King  of  the  country ;  he  sits  and  eats  with 
Him  at  His  table  ;  he  is  become  a  companion  of  immortals, 
and  has  a  house  now  given  him  to  dwell  in,  to  which  the 
best  palace  on  earth,  if  compared,  seems  to  me  but  as  a 
dunghill.  The  Prince  of  the  place  has  also  sent  for  me, 
with  promise  of  entertainment,  if  I  shall  come  to  Him  ; 
His  messenger  was  here  even  now,  and  has  brought  me 
a  letter,  which  invites  me  to  come.  And  with  that  she 
plucked  out  her  letter,  and  read  it,  and  said  to  them, 
What  now  will  you  say  to  this  ? 

189 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Tim.  Oh,  the  madness  that  has  possessed  thee  and  thy 
husband,  to  run  yourselves  upon  such  difficulties !  You 
have  heard,  I  am  sure,  what  your  husband  did  meet  with, 
even  in  a  manner  at  the  first  step  that  he  took  on  his  way, 
as  our  neighbour  Obstinate  can  yet  testify,  for  he  went 
along  with  him ;  yea,  and  Pliable  too,  until  they,  like  wise 
men,  were  afraid  to  go  any  farther.  We  also  heard,  over 
and  above,  how  he  met  with  the  lions,  Apollyon,  the 
The  reasonings  of  Shadow  of  Death,  and  many  other  things, 
the  flesh  j^or  is  the  danger  he  met  with  at  Vanity 

Fair  to  be  forgotten  by  thee.  For  if  he,  though  a  man, 
was  so  hard  put  to  it,  what  canst  thou,  being  but  a  poor 
woman,  do  ?  Consider  also,  that  these  four  sweet  babes 
are  thy  children,  thy  flesh  and  thy  bones.  Wherefore, 
though  thou  shouldest  be  so  rash  as  to  cast  away  thyself, 
yet,  for  the  sake  of  the  fruit  of  thy  body,  keep  thou  at  home. 

But  Christiana  said  unto  her,  Tempt  me  not,  my  neigh- 
bour :  I  have  now  a  price  put  into  mine  hand  to  get  gain, 
and  I  should  be  a  fool  of  the  greatest  size  if  I  should  have 
no  heart  to  strike  in  with  the  opportunity.  And  for  that 
you  tell  me  of  all  these  troubles  that  I  am  like  to  meet  with 

A  pertinent  reply         in  the  Wa]>  the7  *TG  S°  far,  °ff  £°m  ubeing 

to  fleshly  to  me  a  discouragement,  that  they  show  I 

am  in  the  right.  The  bitter  must  come 
before  the  sweet,  and  that  also  will  make  the  sweet  the 
sweeter.  Wherefore,  since  you  came  not  to  my  house  in 
God's  name,  as  I  said,  I  pray  you  to  be  gone,  and  do  not 
disquiet  me  further. 

Then  Timorous  all  to  reviled  her,  and  said  to  her  fellow, 
Come,  neighbour  Mercy,  let's  leave  her  in  her  own  hands, 
since  she  scorns  our  counsel  and  company.  But  Mercy 
was  at  a  stand,  and  could  not  so  readily  comply  with  her 
Mer  's  bowels  neighbour ;  and  that  for  a  twofold  reason, 
yearn  over  First.  Her  bowels  yearned  over  Christiana. 

So  she  said  within  herself,  If  my  neighbour 
will  needs  be  gone,  I  will  go  a  little  way  with  her,  and  help 
her.  Secondly.  Her  bowels  yearned  over  her  own  soul ; 
for  what  Christiana  had  said,  had  taken  some  hold  upon 

190 


TIMOROUS  LEAVES  HER 

her  mind.  Wherefore  she  said  within  herself  again,  I 
will  yet  have  more  talk  with  this  Christiana  ;  and  if  I  find 
truth  and  life  in  what  she  shall  say,  myself  with  my  heart 
shall  also  go  with  her.  Wherefore  Mercy  began  thus  to 
reply  to  her  neighbour  Timorous : 

Mer.  Neighbour,  I  did  indeed  come  with  you  to  see 
Christiana  this  morning ;  and,  since  she  is,  as  you  see,  a 
taking  of  her  last  farewell  of  her  country,  I  think  to  walk 
this  sun-shiny  morning  a  little  way  with  her,  to  help  her 
on  the  way.  But  she  told  her  not  of  her  second  reason, 
but  kept  that  to  herself. 

Tim.  Well,  I  see  you  have  a  mind  to  go  a  fooling  too ; 
but  take  heed  in  time,  and  be  wise :  while  we  are  out  of 
danger,  we  are  out ;  but  when  we  are  in,  we  are  in. 

So  Mrs  Timorous  returned  to  her  house,  and  Christiana 
betook  herself  to  her  journey.  But  when 

.-p..  ,       J  IT       i  Timorous  forsakes 

Timorous  was  got  home  to  her  house,  she     her,  but  Mercy 
sends  for  some  of  her  neighbours,  to  wit,     clea^stoher 
Mrs  Bat's-Eyes,  Mrs  Inconsiderate,  Mrs  Light-Mind,  and 
Mrs  Know-Nothing.     So  when  they  were     T. 

i        i  i       r  11  11.  r    \  Iimorous 

come  to  her  house,  she  falls  to  telling  of  the     acquaints  her 
story  of  Christiana,  and  of  her  intended     g0oddchrlSiami 
journey.     And  thus  she  began  her  tale.         intends  to  do 

Tim.  Neighbours,  having  had  little  to  do  this  morning, 
I  went  to  give  Christiana  a  visit ;  and  when  I  came  at  the 
door,  I  knocked,  as  you  know  'tis  our  custom :  and  she 
answered,  If  you  come  in  God's  name,  come  in.  So  in  I 
went,  thinking  all  was  well ;  but,  when  I  came  in,  I  found 
her  preparing  herself  to  depart  the  town,  she,  and  also  her 
children.  So  I  asked  her,  what  was  her  meaning  by  that. 
And  she  told  me,  in  short,  that  she  was  now  of  a  mind  to 
go  on  pilgrimage,  as  did  her  husband.  She  told  me  also  of 
a  dream  that  she  had,  and  how  the  King  of  the  country 
where  her  husband  was,  had  sent  her  an  inviting  letter 
to  come  thither.  Then  said  Mrs  Know-  Mrs  Know- 
Nothing,  And  what!  do  you  think  she  Nothing 
will  go  ? 

Tim.    Ay,  go  she  will,  whatever  comes  on't  5  and  me- 

191 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

thinks  I  know  it  by  this  ;  for  that  which  was  my  great 
argument  to  persuade  her  to  stay  at  home  (to  wit,  the 
troubles  she  was  like  to  meet  with  on  the  way),  is  one 
great  argument  with  her  to  put  her  forward  on  her  journey. 
For  she  told  me  in  so  many  words,  The  bitter  goes  before 
the  sweet :  yea,  and  forasmuch  as  it  so  doth,  it  makes  the 
sweet  the  sweeter. 

Mrs  Bat's-Eyes.     Oh,  this  blind  and  foolish  woman ! 
said  she;    will  she  not  take  warning  by 

Mrs  Bats-Eyes  ,          §       t_      _«        m»     •          •>    r  &       , 

her  husband  s  afflictions  ?  for  my  part,   1 

see  if  he  were  here  again,  he  would  rest  him  content  in, 

a  whole  skin,  and  never  run  so  many  hazards  for  nothing. 

Mrs  Inconsiderate  also  replied,  saying,  Away  with  such 

fantastical  fools  from  the  town !   a  good 

Mrs  Inconsiderate         .  j  ,  r  -r 

riddance,  for  my  part,  I  say,  of  her! 
Should  she  stay  where  she  dwells,  and  retain  this  her 
mind,  who  could  live  quietly  by  her  ?  for  she  will  either 
be  dumpish,  or  unneighbourly,  or  talk  of  such  matters  as 
no  wise  body  can  abide.  Wherefore,  for  my  part,  I  shall 
never  be  sorry  for  her  departure  ;  let  her  go,  and  let  better 
come  in  her  room :  'twas  never  a  good  world  since  these 
whimsical  fools  dwelt  in  it. 

Then  Mrs  Light-Mind  added  as  followeth  :  Come,  put 
Mrs  Light-Mind  this  kind  of  talk  away.  I  was  yesterday 
Madam  Wanton,  at  Madam  "Wanton's,  where  we  were  as 
she  that  had  like'  merry  as  the  maids.  For  who  do  you 

to  a  been  too  hard       .,.    , J      ,        ,,     ,  T  i     -i/r 

f9r  Faithful,  in  think  should  be  there,  but  I  and  Mrs 
time  past  Love-the-Flesh,  and  three  or  four  more, 

with  Mr  Lechery,  Mrs  Filth,  and  some  others :  so  there 
we  had  music  and  dancing,  and  what  else  was  meet  to  fill 
up  the  pleasure.  And  I  dare  say  my  lady  herself  is  an 
admirably  well-bred  gentlewoman,  and  Mr  Lechery  is  as 
pretty  a  fellow. 

By  this  time  Christiana  was  got  on  her  way,  and  Mercy 

Discourse  betwixt      W(;nt  al°ng  with  her  ;    SO  as  the7  went>  her 

c^stiana  *°°d       children  being  there  also,  Christiana  began 

to  discourse.    And,  Mercy,  said  Christiana, 

I  take  this  as  an  unexpected  favour,  that  thou  shouldes*- 

10,2 


MERCY  GOES  WITH  CHRISTIANA 

set  foot  out  of  doors  with  me  to  accompany  me  a  little  in 
my  way. 

Mer.    Then  said  young  Mercy  (for  she  was  but  young), 

If  I  thought  it  would  be  to  purpose  to  go       Mercy  inclines 

with  you,  I  would  never  go  near  the  town     to  «° 
any  more. 

Chr.    Well,  Mercy,  said  Christiana,  cast  in  thy  lot  with 
me :  I  well  know  what  will  be  the  end  of  our  pilgrimage : 
my  husband  is  where  he  would  not  but  be  for  all  the  gold 
in  the  Spanish  mines.     Nor  shalt  thou  be  rejected,  though 
thou  goest  but  upon  my  invitation.    The  King,  who  hath 
sent  for  me  and  my  children,  is  one  that     Christiana  would 
delighteth  in  Mercy.    Besides,  if  thou  wilt,     have  her  neigh- 
I  will  hire  thee,  and  thou  shalt  go  along 
with  me  as  my  servant.     Yet  we  will  have  all  things  in 
common  betwixt  thee  and  me :  only  go  along  with  me. 

Men     But  how  shall  I  be  ascertained  that  I  also  shall 
be  entertained  ?     Had  I  this  hope  from     Mercy  doubts 
one  that  can  tell,  I  would  make  no  stick  at     of  acceptance 
all,  but  would  go,  being  helped  by  Him  that  can  help, 
though  the  way  was  never  so  tedious. 

Chr.  Well,  loving  Mercy,  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou 
shalt  do ;  go  with  me  to  the  Wicket-Gate, 
and  there  I  will  further  inquire  for  thee ; 
and  if.  there  thou  shalt  not  meet  with  en- 
couragement,  I  will  be  content  that  thou  there  to  inquire 
shalt  return  to  thy  place;  I  also  will  pay 
thee  for  thy  kindness  which  thou  showest  to  me  and  my 
children  in  thy  accompanying  of  us  in  our  way  as  thou 
doe  st. 

Mer.     Then  will  I  go  thither,  and  will  take  what  shall 
follow ;  and  the  Lord  grant  that  my  lot 
may  there  fall,  even  as  the  King  of  heaven 
shall  have  His  heart  upon  me. 

Christiana  then  was  glad  at  her  heart :  not  only  that  she 
had  a  companion;  but  also  for  that  she  Christiana  glad  of 
had  prevailed  with  this  poor  maid  to  fall  Mercy's  company 
in  love  with  her  own  salvation.  So  they  went  on  together, 

193  N 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  Mercy  began  to  weep.  Then  said  Christiana,  Where- 
fore weepeth  my  sister  so  ? 

Mer.  Alas !  said  she,  who  can  but  lament,  that  shall 
Mercy  grieves  ^ut  rightly  consider  what  a  state  and  con- 
for  her  carnal  dition  my  poor  relations  are  in,  that  yet 

remain  in  our  sinful  town?  And  that 
which  makes  my  grief  the  more  heavy  is,  because  they 
have  no  instructor,  nor  any  to  tell  them  what  is  to  come. 

Chr.  Bowels  becometh  pilgrims  ;  and  thou  dost  for  thy 
friends,  as  my  good  Christian  did  for  me  when  he  left  me : 
he  mourned  for  that  I  would  not  heed  nor  regard  him ;  but 
Christian's  ^"1S  L°r<^  an(^  ours  did  gather  up  his  tears, 

prayers  were  and  put  them  into  His  bottle ;  and  now 

?eiaUonesdlfterls  both  I  and  thou,  and  these  my  sweet  babes, 
he  was  dead  are  reaping  the  fruit  and  benefit  of  them. 

I  hope,  Mercy,  that  these  tears  of  thine  will  not  be  lost; 
for  the  truth  hath  said,  that  they  that  sow  in  tears  shall 
reap  in  joy  in  singing.  And  he  that  goeth  forth  and 
weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall  doubtless  come  again 
with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with  him. 

Then  said  Mercy, 

Let  the  Most  Blessed  be  my  guide, 

If  't  be  His  blessed  will, 
Unto  His  gate,   into  His  fold, 

Up  to  His  holy  hill. 

And  let  Him  never  suffer  me 

To  swerve,  or  turn  aside 
From  His  free  grace  and  holy  ways, 

Whate'er  shall  me  betide. 

And  let  Him  gather  them  of  mine, 

That  I  have  left  behind; 
Lord,  make  them  pray  they  may  be  Thine, 

With  all  their  heart  and  mind. 

Now  my  old  friend  proceeded  and  said,  But,  when 
Christiana  came  up  to  the  Slough  of  Despond,  she  began  to 
be  at  a  stand ;  For,  said  she,  this  is  the  place  in  which  my 
dear  husband  had  like  to  a  been  smothered  with  mud. 
She  perceived,  also,  that  notwithstanding  the  command  of 
the  King  to  make  this  place  for  pilgrims  good,  yet  it  was 

194 


THE  WICKET-GATE 

rather  worse   than  formerly.      So  I  asked   if  that  was 
true.     Yes,  said  the  old  gentleman,  too  true  ;  for  that  many 
there  be  that  pretend  to  be  the  King's  labourers,  and  that  say 
they  are  for  mending  the  King's  highways, 
that  bring  dirt  and  dung  instead  of  stones,     SnauS- 
and  so  mar  instead   of  mending.      Here     elusions  instead 

...  ,          r  .11         T  1.1       01  tne  word  of  uie 

Christiana  therefore,  with  her  boys,  did 
make  a  stand.      But  said  Mercy,  Come,  let  us  venture, 
only  let  us  be  wary.     Then  they  looked     Mercy  the 
well  to  the  steps,  and  made  a  shift  to  get     siougShof the 
staggeringly  over.  Despond 

Yet  Christiana  had  like  to  a  been  in,  and  that  not  once 
nor  twice.  Now  they  had  no  sooner  got  over,  but  they 
thought  they  heard  words  that  said  unto  them,  Blessed  is 
she  that  belie veth,  for  there  shall  be  a  performance  of  the 
things  that  have  been  told  her  from  the  Lord. 

Then  they  went  on  again  ;  and  said  Mercy  to  Christiana, 
Had  I  as  good  ground  to  hope  for  a  loving  reception  at 
the  Wicket-Gate  as  you,  I  think  no  Slough  of  Despond 
would  discourage  me. 

Well,  said  the  other,  you  know  your  sore,  and  I  know 
mine ;  and,  good  friend,  we  shall  all  have  enough  evil 
before  we  come  at  our  journey's  end.  For  can  it  be 
imagined  that  the  people  that  design  to  attain  such 
excellent  glories  as  we  do,  and  that  are  so  envied  that 
happiness  as  we  are,  but  that  we  shall  meet  with  what 
fears  and  snares,  with  what  troubles  and  afflictions  they 
can  possibly  assault  us  with  that  hate  us  ? 

And  now  Mr  Sagacity  left  me  to  dream  out  my  dream 
by  myself.     Wherefore,  methought  I  saw  Christiana,  and 
Mercy,  and  the  boys  go  all  of  them  up  to     P        shouldbe 
the  gate  :  to  which  when  they  were  come,     made  with  con- 
they  betook  themselves  to  a  short  debate,     fear^aV^eii^s  in 
about  how  they  must  manage  their  calling     faith  and  hope 
at  the  gate,  and  what  should  be  said  unto  Him  that  did? 
open  to  them  :  so  it  was  concluded,  since  Christiana  was 
the  eldest,  that  she  should  knock  for  entrance,  and  that 
she  should  speak  to  Him  that  did  open,  for  the  rest.     So 

195 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Christiana  began  to  knock,  and,  as  her  poor  husband  did, 
she  knocked  and  knocked  again.  But  instead  of  any  that 
answered,  they  all  thought  that  they  heard  as  if  a  dog  came 
The  do  the  barking  upon  them ; — a  dog,  and  a  great 

devil,  an'enemy  one  too :  and  this  made  the  woman  and 
children  afraid.  Nor  durst  they  for  a 
while  dare  to  knock  any  more,  for  fear  the  mastiff  should 
fly  upon  them.  Now  therefore  they  were  greatly  tumbled 
up  and  down  in  their  minds,  and  knew  not  what  to  do ; 
Christiana  and  knock  they  durst  not,  for  fear  of  the  dog ; 

perp^exe^abo^t          8°   back  thc7   durSt  nOt>  f°T  fear  that    the 

prayer  Keeper  of  that  gate  should  espy  them  as 

they  so  went,  and  should  be  offended  with  them;  at 
last  they  thought  of  knocking  again,  and  knocked  more 
vehemently  than  they  did  at  first.  Then  said  the  Keeper 
of  the  gate,  Who  is  there  ?  So  the  dog  left  off  to  bark, 
and  He  opened  unto  them. 

Then  Christiana  made  low  obeisance,  and  said,  Let  not 
our  Lord  be  offended  with  His  handmaidens,  for  that  we 
have  knocked  at  His  princely  gate.  Then  said  the  Keeper, 
Whence  come  ye  ?  And  what  is  it  that  you  would  have  ? 

Christiana  answered,  We  are  come  from  whence  Chris- 
tian did  come,  and  upon  the  same  errand  as  he ;  to  wit, 
to  be,  if  it  shall  please  you,  graciously  admitted  by  this 
gate  into  the  way  that  leads  to  the  Celestial  City.  And  I 
answer,  my  Lord,  in  the  next  place,  that  I  am  Christiana, 
once  the  wife  of  Christian,  that  now  is  gotten  above. 

With  that  the  Keeper  of  the  gate  did  marvel,  saying, 
What !  is  she  become  now  a  pilgrim,  that  but  a  while 
ago  abhorred  that  life  ?  Then  she  bowed  her  head,  and 
said,  Yes  ;  and  so  are  these  my  sweet  babes  also. 

Then  He  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her  in,  and  said 
^  .  .  also,  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto 

How  Christiana  i»/r  j       •  i      i          TT 

is  entertained  at       Me  ;  and  with  that  He  shut  up  the  gate. 

the  gate  Thig  done>  Re   caUed    tQ  ft  trumpeter   that 

was  above,  over  the  gate,  to  entertain  Christiana  with 
shouting,  and  sound  of  trumpet,  for  joy.  So  he  obeyed, 
and  sounded,  and  filled  the  air  with  his  melodious  notes. 

196 


Ai'ERCY    AT    THE    GATE 
But  Mercy  was  fallen  down  without  in  a  swoon. 


MERCY  ADMITTED 

New  all  this  while  poor  Mercy  did  stand  without, 
trembling  and  crying  for  fear  that  she  was  rejected. 
But  when  Christiana  had  gotten  admittance  for  herself  and 
her  boys,  then  she  began  to  make  intercession  for  Mercy. 

Chr.  And  she  said,  My  Lord,  I  have  a  companion  of 
mine  that  stands  vet  without,  that  is  come 

ir         Christiana's 

hither  upon  the  same  account  as  myself :     prayer  for  her 
one  that  is  much  dejected  in  her  mind,  for     *nendMercy 
that   she   comes,    as    she    thinks,  without    sending   for : 
whereas  I  was  sent  to  by  my  husband's  King  to  come. 

Now   Mercy   began   to    be   very  impatient,    for   each 
minute  was  as  long  to  her  as  an   hoar;     Thedela  smake 
wherefore  she  prevented  Christiana  from     thelmnserlnjsoui 
a  fuller  interceding  for  her,  by  knocking 
at  the  gate  herself.     And  she  knocked  then  so  loud,  that 
she  made  Christiana  to  start.    Then  said  the  Keeper  of  the 
gate,  Who  is  there  ?    And  said  Christiana,  It  is  my  friend. 

So  He  opened  the  gate,  and  looked  out,  but  Mercy  was 
fallen  down  without  in  a  swoon,  for  she 
fainted,  and  was  afraid  that  no  gate  should 
be  opened  to  her. 

Then  He  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  said,  Damsel,  I  bid 
thee  arise. 

O  Sir,  said  she,  I  am  faint :  there  is  scarce  life  left  to 
me.      But  He  answered,  that  one  once  said,  When  my 
soul  fainted  within  me,  I  remembered  the     The  cause  of  her 
Lord  :  and  my  prayer  came  in  unto  Thee,     fainting 
into  Thy  holy  temple.     Fear  not,  but  stand  upon  thy  feet, 
and  tell  Me  wherefore  Thou  art  come. 

Mer.  I  am  come  for  that  unto  which  I  was  never 
invited,  as  my  friend  Christiana  was.  Hers  was  from 
the  King,  and  mine  was  but  from  her.  Wherefore  I  fear 
I  presume. 

Keep.  Did  she  desire  thee  to  come  with  her  to  this 
place  ? 

Mer.  Yes  ;  and  as  my  Lord  sees,  I  am  come.  And  if 
there  is  any  grace  and  forgiveness  of  sins  to  spare,  I  beseech 
that  Thy  poor  handmaid  may  be  a  partaker  thereof. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Then  He  took  her  again  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  gently 

in,  and  said,  I  pray  for  all  them  that  believe  on  Me,  by 

what  means  soever  they  come  unto  Me.     Then  said  He  to 

those  that  stood  by,  Fetch  something  and 

give  it  to  Mercy  to  smell  on,  thereby  to 

stay  her  fainting :  so  they  fetched  her  a  bundle  of  myrrh, 

and  a  while  after  she  was  revived. 

And  now  were  Christiana  and  her  boys,  and  Mercy, 
received  of  the  Lord  at  the  head  of  the  way,  and  spoke 
kindly  unto  by  Him.  Then  said  they  yet  further  unto 
Him,  We  are  sorry  for  our  sins,  and  beg  of  our  Lord  His 
pardon,  and  further  information  what  we  must  do. 

I  grant  pardon,  said  He,  by  word  and  deed  ;  by  word, 
in  the  promise  of  forgiveness  ;  by  deed,  in  the  way  I 
obtained  it.  Take  the  first  from  My  lips  with  a  kiss,  and 
the  other  as  it  shall  be  revealed. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  He  spake  many  good 
words  unto  them,  whereby  they  were  greatly  gladded. 
Christ  crucified  He  also  had  them  up  to  the  top  of  the 
seen  afar  off  gate,  and  showed  them  by  what  deed  they 

were  saved  •,  and  told  them  withal,  that  that  sight  they 
would  have  again  as  they  went  along  in  the  way,  to  their 
comfort. 

So  He  left  them  a  while  in  a  summer  parlour  below, 
Talk  between  where  they  entered  into  talk  by  them- 

the  Christians  selves  ;  and  thus  Christiana  began. — How 
glad  am  I  that  we  have  got  in  hither ! 

Mer.  So  you  well  may ;  but  I,  of  all,  have  cause  to 
leap  for  joy. 

Chr.  I  thought  one  time  as  I  stood  at  the  gate,  because 
I  had  knocked  and  none  did  answer,  that  all  our  labour 
had  been  lost,  specially  when  that  ugly  cur  made  such 
a  heavy  barking  against  us. 

Mer.  But  my  worst  fear  was  after  I  saw  that  you  were 
taken  into  His  favour,  and  that  I  was  left  behind.  Now, 
thought  I,  'tis  fulfilled  which  is  written,  Two  women 
shall  be  grinding  together;  the  one  shall  be  taken, 
and  the  other  left.  I  had  much  ado  to  forbear  cry- 

198 


THE  CHRISTIANS'  TALK 

ing  out,  Undone  !  undone  !  And  afraid  I  was  to  knock 
any  more ;  but  when  I  looked  up  to  what  was  written 
over  the  gate,  I  took  courage.  I  also  thought  that  I 
must  either  knock  again,  or  die:  so  I  knocked,  but  I 
cannot  tell  how  j  for  my  spirit  now  struggled  betwixt 
life  and  death. 

Chr.  Can  you  not  tell  how  you  knocked  ?     I  am  sure 
your  knocks  were  so  earnest,  that  the  very     Christiana  thinks 
sound  of  them  made  me  start ;  I  thought  I     JSyTbSter00 
never  heard  such  knocking  in  all  my  life  ;     than  she- 
I  thought  you  would  a  come  in  by  violent  hand,  or  a  took 
the  kingdom  by  storm. 

Men  Alas  !  to  be  in  my  case,  who  that  so  was,  could 
but  a  done  so  ?  You  saw  that  the  door  was  shut  upon 
me,  and  that  there  was  a  most  cruel  dog  thereabout.  Who, 
I  say,  that  was  so  faint-hearted  as  I,  that  would  not  a 
knocked  with  all  their  might  ?  But,  pray,  what  said  my 
Lord  unto  my  rudeness  ?  Was  He  not  angry  with  me  ? 

Chr.     When  He  heard  your  lumbering  noise,  He  gave 
a  wonderful  innocent  smile  ;  I  believe  what     Christ  pleased 
you  did  pleased  Him  well  enough,  for  He     with  loud  and 
showed  no  sign  to  the  contrary.     But  I 
marvel  in   my  heart   why  He  keeps    such   a   dog :   had 
I  known  that  afore,  I  fear  I  should  not  have  had  heart 
enough  to  a  ventured  myself  in  this  manner.     But  now 
we  are  in,  we  are  in,  and  I  am  glad  with  all  my  heart. 

Mer.  I  will  ask,  if  you  please,  next  time  He  comes 
down,  why  He  keeps  such  a  filthy  cur  in  His  yard ;  I  hope 
He  will  not  take  it  amiss. 

Ay,  do,  said  the  children,  and  persuade  Him  to  hang 
him ;  for  we  are  afraid  that  he  will  bite  us     The  chiidren  are 
when  we  go  hence.  afraid  of  the  do* 

So  at  last  He  came  down  to  them  again,  and  Mercy  fell 
to  the  ground  on  her  face  before  Him,  and  worshipped,  and 
said,  Let  my  Lord  accept  of  the  sacrifice  of  praise  which  I 
now  offer  unto  Him  with  the  calves  of  my  lips. 

So  He  said  unto  her,  Peace  be  to  thee  ;  stand  up.  But 
she  continued  upon  her  face,  and  said,  Righteous  art  Thou, 

rpo 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

O  Lord,  when  I  plead  with  Thee ;  yet  let  me  talk  with 

Mercy  expos-  Thee    of    Th7    judgments.      Wherefore 

tuiates  about  the      dost  Thou  keep  so  cruel  a  dog  in  Thy 

yard,  at  the  sight  of  which,  such  women 

and  children  as  we  are  ready  to  fly  from  the  gate  for  fear  ? 

He  answered  and  said,  That  dog  has  another  owner ;  he 

The  deva  a^so  *s  ^ePt  c^ose  m  another  man's  ground, 

only  My  pilgrims  hear  his  barking :  he 
belongs  to  the  castle  which  you  see  there  at  a  distance,  but 
can  come  up  to  the  walls  of  this  place.  He  has  frighted  many 
an  honest  pilgrim  from  worse  to  better,  by  the  great  voice 
of  his  roaring.  Indeed,  he  that  owneth  him  doth  not  keep 
him  out  of  any  good  will  to  Me  or  Mine,  but  with  intent  to 
keep  the  pilgrims  from  coming  to  Me,  and  that  they  may 
be  afraid  to  knock  at  this  gate  for  entrance.  Some- 
times also  he  has  broken  out,  and  has  worried  some 
that  I  love ;  but  I  take  all  at  present  patiently.  I  also 
give  my  pilgrims  timely  help,  so  they  are  not  delivered  up 
to  his  power,  to  do  with  them  what  his  doggish  nature 
would  prompt  him  to.  But  what,  My  purchased  one,  I 
trow,  hadst  thou  known  never  so  much  beforehand,  thou 
wouldest  not  a  been  afraid  of  a  dog.  The  beggars  that 
A  check  to  the  S°  from  door  to  door,  will,  rather  than  they 
carnal  fear  of  the  will  lose  a  supposed  alms,  run  the  hazard  of 
the  bawling,  barking,  and  biting  too  of  a 
dog ;  and  shall  a  dog,  a  dog  in  another  man's  yard,  a  dog 
whose  barking  I  turn  to  the  profit  of  pilgrims,  keep  any 
one  from  coming  to  Me  ?  I  deliver  them  from  the  lions, 
their  darling  from  the  power  of  the  dog. 

Mer.     Then   said   Mercy,   I  confess  my  ignorance ;  I 
Christians, when       spake  what  I  understood  not-,  I  acknow- 
wise  enough,  ac-       ledge  that  Thou  doest  all  things  well, 
wisdom  of  their  Chr.     Then  Christiana  began  to  talk  of 

their  journey,  and  to  inquire  after  the  way. 
— So  He  fed  them,  and  washed  their  feet,  and  set  them  in 
the  way  of  His  steps,  according  as  He  had  dealt  with  her 
husband  before.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  walked  on 
in  their  way,  and  had  the  weather  very  comfortable  to  them. 

200 


THE  DEVIL'S  GARDEN 

Then  Christiana  began  to  sing,  saying, 

Blessed  be  the  day  that  I  began 

A  pilgrim  for  to  be  ; 
And  blessed  also  be  that  man 

That  thereto  moved  me. 

'Tis  true,  'twas  long  ere  I  began 

To  seek  to  live  for  ever ; 
But  now  I  run  as  fast  as  I  can . 

'Tis  better  late  than  never. 

Our  tears  to  joy,  our  fears  to  faith, 

Are  turned,  as  we  see; 
Thus  our  beginning  (as  one  saith) 

Shows  what  our  end  will  be. 

Now  there  was,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  that  fenced 
in  the  way  up  which  Christiana  and  her  companions  were  to 
go,  a  garden,  and  that  garden  belonged  to 
him  whose  was  that  barking  dog,  of  whom 
mention  was  made  before.     And  some  of  the  fruit-trees 
that  grew  in  that  garden  shot  their  branches  over  the  wall ; 
and  being  mellow,  they  that  found  them  did  gather  them  up, 
and  oft  eat  of  them  to  their  hurt.  So  Christiana's  boys,  as  boys 
are  apt  to  do,  being  pleased  with  the  trees,     The  chudren  eat 
and  with  the  fruit  that  did  hang  thereon,  did     of  the  enemy's 
pluck  them,  and  began  to  eat.  Their  mother 
did  also  chide  them  for  so  doing,  but  still  the  boys  went  on. 

Well,  said  she,  my  sons,  you  transgress,  for  that  fruit  is 
none  of  ours ;  but  she  did  not  know  that  they  did  belong 
to  the  enemy  :  Til  warrant  you,  if  she  had,  she  would  a 
been  ready  to  die  for  fear.     But  that  passed,  and  they  went 
on  their  way.    Now  by  that  they  we  re  gone     TWO  ill-favoured 
about  two  bow-shots  from  the  place  that     ones 
led  them  into  the  way,  they  espied  two  very  ill-favoured 
ones  coming  down  apace  to  meet  them.  With  that  Christiana 
and  Mercy  her  friend  covered  themselves  with  their  veils, 
and  so  kept  on  their  journey :  the  children  also  went  on 
before  ;  so  at  last  they  met  together.    Then  they  that  came 
down  to  meet  them,  came  just  up  to  the     They  assault 
women,  as  if  they  would  embrace  them ;  but     Christiana  and 
Christiana  said,  Stand  back,  or  go  peace- 
ably by  as  you  should.    Yet  these  two,  as  men  that  are  deaf, 

201 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

regarded  not  Christiana's  words,  but  began  to  lay  hands 
upon  them :  at  that  Christiana,  waxing  very  wroth,  spurned 
at  them  with  her  feet.  Mercy  also,  as  well  as  she  could, 
The  pilgrims  did  what  she  could  to  shift  them.  Chris- 

struggle  with  them  tjana  again  said  to  them,  Stand  back,  and  be 
gone,  for  we  have  no  money  to  lose,  being  pilgrims,  as  ye 
see,  and  such  too  as  live  upon  the  charity  of  our  friends. 

Ill-Fav.  Then  said  one  of  the  two  of  the  men,  We 
make  no  assault  upon  you  for  money,  but  are  come  out  to 
tell  you,  that  if  you  will  but  grant  one  small  request  which 
we  shall  ask,  we  will  make  women  of  you  for  ever% 

Chr.  Now  Christiana,  imagining  what  they  should 
mean,  made  answer  again,  We  will  neither  hear,  nor  regard, 
nor  yield  to  what  you  shall  ask.  We  are  in  haste, 
cannot  stay ;  our  business  is  a  business  of  life  and  death. 
So  again  she  and  her  companion  made  a  fresh  essay  to  go 
past  them ;  but  they  letted  them  in  their  way. 

Ill-Fav.  And  they  said,  We  intend  no  hurt  to  your 
lives ;  'tis  another  thing  we  would  have. 

Chr.     Ay,  quoth  Christiana,  you  would  have  us  body 

and  soul,  for  I  know  'tis  for  that  you  are 

come;  but  we  will  die  rather  upon  the 

spot,  than  suffer  ourselves  to  be  brought  into  such  snares 

as  shall  hazard  our  well-being  hereafter.     And  with  that 

they  both  shrieked  out,  and  cried,  Murder !  murder !  and 

so  put  themselves  under  those  laws  that  are  provided  for 

the  protection  of  women.     But  the  men  still  made  their 

approach  upon  them,  with  design  to  prevail  against  them. 

They  therefore  cried  out  again. 

Now,  they  being,  as  I  said,  not  far  from  the  gate  in  at 
,_.  which  they  came,  their  voice  was  heard 

i  is  good  to  cry  r  •>  1.1  i 

out  when  we  are       from  whence  they  were,  thither  :  where- 
fore   some   of  the  house  came  out,  and 
knowing  that  it  was  Christiana's  tongue,  they  made  haste 
The  Reliever  to  ner  relief.     But  by  that  they  were  got 

comes  within  sight  of  them,  the  women  were  in 

a  very  great  scuffle ;  the  children  also  stood  crying  by. 
Then  did  he  that  came  in  for  their  relief  call  out  to  the 

202 


THE    BOYS    AND    THE    FRUIT 

So  Christiana's  "boys,  as  hoys  are  apt  to  do,  being  pleased  with  the 

trees,  and  tcith  the  fruit  that  did  hang  thereon,  did 

pluck  them,  and  hffjan  to  cat.     Their  mother 

did  also   chide   them    for  80   doino. 


DISCOURSE  WITH  RELIEVER 

ruffians,  saying,  What  is  that  thing  that  you  do ;  would  you 
make  my  Lord's  people  to  transgress  ?  He  also  attempted 
to  take  them,  but  they  did  make  their  escape  The  m  ones  fly  to 
over  the  wall  into  the  garden  of  the  man  to  the  devil  for  relief 
whom  the  great  dog  belonged ;  so  the  dog  became  their 
protector.  This  reliever  then  came  up  to  the  women,  and 
asked  them  how  they  did.  So  they  answered,  We  thank 
thy  Prince,  pretty  well,  only  we  have  been  somewhat 
affrighted :  we  thank  thee  also  for  that  thou  earnest  in  to 
our  help,  for  otherwise  we  had  been  overcome. 

Reliever.  So  after  a  few  more  words,  this  reliever 
said  as  folio weth  :  I  marvelled  much  when  The  Reliever  talks 
you  was  entertained  at  the  gate  above,  to  the  women 
being  ye  knew  that  ye  were  but  weak  women,  that  you 
petitioned  not  the  Lord  there  for  a  conductor  ;  then  might 
you  have  avoided  these  troubles  and  dangers;  for  He  would 
have  granted  you  one. 

Chr.     Alas  !  said  Christiana,  we  were  so  taken  with  our 
present  blessing,  that  dangers  to  come  were     Mark 
forgotten  by  us.     Beside,  who  could  have 
thought,  that  so  near  the  King's  palace  there  should  have 
lurked  such  naughty  ones  ?     Indeed,  it  had  been  well  for 
us  had  we  asked  our  Lord  for  one ;  but  since  our  Lord 
knew  'twould  be  for  our  profit,  I  wonder  He  sent  not  one 
along  with  us. 

Rel.  It  is  not  always  necessary  to  grant  things  not 
asked  for,  lest  by  so  doing  they  become  of  little  esteem ; 
but  when  the  want  of  a  thing  is  felt,  it  we  lose  for  want 
then  comes  under,  in  the  eyes  of  him  that  of  asking  for 
feels  it,  that  estimate  that  properly  is  its  due,  and  so  con- 
sequently will  be  thereafter  used.  Had  my  Lord  granted 
you  a  conductor,  you  would  not  neither  so  have  bewailed 
that  oversight  of  yours,  in  not  asking  for  one,  as  now  you 
have  occasion  to  do.  So  all  things  work  for  good,  and 
tend  to  make  you  more  wary. 

Chr.     Shall  we  go  back  again  to  my  Lord,  and  confess 
our  folly,  and  ask  one  ? 

Rel.     Your  confession  of  your  folly  I  will  present  Him 

202 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

with.  To  go  back  again,  you  need  not ;  for  in  all  places 
where  you  shall  come,  you  will  find  no  want  at  all ;  for  in 
every  of  my  Lord's  lodgings,  which  He  has  prepared  for 
the  reception  of  His  pilgrims,  there  is  sufficient  to  furnish 
them  against  all  attempts  whatsoever.  But,  as  I  said,  He 
will  be  inquired  of  by  them  to  do  it  for  them.  And  'tis 
a  poor  thing  that  is  not  worth  asking  for.  When  he  had 
thus  said,  he  went  back  to  his  place,  and  the  pilgrims  went 
on  their  way. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  What  a  sudden  blank  is  here ! 
The  mistake  of  I  made  account  we  had  now  been  past  all 
Mercy  danger,  and  that  we  should  never  see 

sorrow  more. 

Chr.  Thy  innocency,  my  sister,  said  Christiana  to 
_.  .  .  ,  Mercy,  may  excuse  thee  much :  but  as  for 

Christiana's  guilt  J      r      t      •  c 

me,  my  fault  is  so  much  the  greater,  for 
that  I  saw  this  danger  before  I  came  out  of  the  doors,  and 
yet  did  not  provide  for  it  where  provision  might  have  been 
had.  I  am  therefore  much  to  be  blamed. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  How  knew  you  this  before 
you  came  from  home  ?  Pray  open  to  me  this  riddle. 

Chr.  Why,  I  will  tell  you.  Before  I  set  foot  out  of 
Christiana's  doors,  one  night,  as  I  lay  in  my  bed,  I  had 

dream  repeated  a  dream  about  this  ;  for  methought  I  saw 
two  men,  as  like  these  as  ever  the  world  they  could  look, 
stand  at  my  bed's  feet,  plotting  how  they  might  prevent 
my  salvation.  I  will  tell  you  their  very  words.  They  said 
('twas  when  I  was  in  my  troubles),  What  shall  we  do  with 
this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  out  waking  and  sleeping  for 
forgiveness ;  if  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she  begins, 
we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have  lost  her  husband.  This  you 
know  might  a  made  me  take  heed,  and  have  provided  when 
provision  might  a  been  had. 

Mer.     Well,  said  Mercy,  as  by  this  neglect  we  have  an 

Merc  makes  occasion  ministered  unto  us  to  behold  our 

good  use  of  their       own  imperfections,  so  our  Lord  has  taken 

occasion  thereby  to  make  manifest  the  riches 

of  His  grace  5   for  He,  as  we  see,  has  followed  us  with 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE 

unasked  kindness,  and  has  delivered  us  from  their  hands 
that  were  stronger  than  we,  of  His  mere  good  pleasure. 

Thus  now  when  they  had  talked  away  a  little  more  time, 
they  drew  near  to  a  house  which  stood  in  the  way,  which 
house  was  built  for  the  relief  of  pilgrims,  as  you  will  find 
more  fully  related  in  the  first  part  of  these  records  of  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress.  So  they  drew  on  towards  the  house 
(the  house  of  the  Interpreter) ;  and  when  they  came  to 
the  door,  they  heard  a  great  talk  in  the  Talk  in  the  Inter. 
house.  They  then  gave  ear,  and  heard,  preter's  house 
as  they  thought,  Christiana  mentioned  by  SSSSt 
name ;  for  you  must  know,  that  there  went  *rima£e 
along,  even  before  her,  a  talk  of  her  and  her  children's 
going  on  pilgrimage.  And  this  thing  was  the  more  pleasing 
to  them,  because  they  had  heard  that  she  was  Christian's 
wife,  that  woman  who  was  some  time  ago  so  unwilling 
to  hear  of  going  on  pilgrimage.  Thus,  therefore,  they 
stood  still,  and  heard  the  good  people  within  commend- 
ing her,  who  they  little  thought  stood  at  the  door. 
At  last  Christiana  knocked,  as  she  had  she  knocks  at  the 
done  at  the  gate  before.  Now,  when  she  door 
had  knocked,  there  came  to  the  door  a  young  damsel,  named 
Innocent,  and  opened  the  door,  and  looked,  The  door  is  opened 
and  behold,  two  women  were  there.  to  them  by  innocent 

Dam.  Then  said  the  damsel  to  them,  With  whom 
would  you  speak  in  this  place  ? 

Chr.  Christiana  answered,  We  understand  that  this  is 
a  privileged  place  for  those  that  are  become  pilgrims,  and 
we  now  at  this  door  are  such :  wherefore  we  pray  that 
we  may  be  partakers  of  that  for  which  we  at  this  time  are 
come ;  for  the  day,  as  thou  seest,  is  very  far  spent,  and 
we  are  loth  to-night  to  go  any  further. 

Dam.  Pray  what  may  I  call  your  name,  that  I  may 
tell  it  to  my  Lord  within  ? 

Chr.  My  name  is  Christiana ;  I  was  the  wife  of  that 
pilgrim  that  some  years  ago  did  travel  this  way,  and  these 
be  his  four  children.  This  maiden  is  also  my  companion, 
and  is  going  on  pilgrimage  too. 

205 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Innocent.  Then  Innocent  ran  in  (for  that  was  her 
name),  and  said  to  those  within,  Can  you  think  who  is  at 
the  door  ?  There  is  Christiana  and  her  children,  and  her 
companion,  all  waiting  for  entertainment  here.  Then  they 
leaped  for  joy,  and  went  and  told  their 
master.  So  he  came  to  the  door,  and 

t£raed*£agrfma  U     l°okmg  uPon  ^er>  ne  saic*>  Art  thou  that 

Christiana  whom  Christian  the  good  man 

left  behind  him,  when  he  betook  himself  to  a  pilgrim's  life? 

Chr.  I  am  that  woman  that  was  so  hard-hearted  as  to 
slight  my  husband's  troubles,  and  that  left  him  to  go  on 
in  his  journey  alone,  and  these  are  his  four  children  ;  but 
now  I  also  am  come,  for  I  am  convinced  that  no  way  is 
right  but  this. 

Inter.  Then  is  fulfilled  that  which  also  is  written  of  the 
man  that  said  to  his  son,  Go  work  to-day  in  my  vineyard; 
and  he  said  to  his  father,  I  will  not  5  but  afterwards 
repented  and  went. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  So  be  it,  Amen.  God 
make  it  a  true  saying  upon  me,  and  grant  that  I  may  be 
found  at  the  last  of  Him  in  peace,  without  spot,  and 
blameless. 

Inter.  But  why  standest  thou  thus  at  the  door? 
Come  in,  thou  daughter  of  Abraham ;  we  were  talking 
of  thee  but  now,  for  tidings  have  come  to  us  before  how 
thou  art  become  a  pilgrim.  Come,  children,  come  in ;  come, 
maiden,  come  in.  So  he  had  them  all  into  the  house. 

So  when  they  were  within,  they  were  bidden  sit 
down  and  rest  them ;  the  which  when  they  had  done, 
those  that  attended  upon  the  pilgrims  in  the  house,  came 
into  the  room  to  see  them.  And  one  smiled,  and  another 
smiled,  and  they  all  smiled  for  joy  that 
Christiana  was  become  a  pilgrim.  They 
walk  in  God's  aiso  looked  upon  the  boys,  they  stroked 

them  over  the  faces  with  the  hand  in 
token  of  their  kind  reception  of  them  :  they  also  carried  it 
lovingly  to  Mercy,  and  bid  them  all  welcome  into  their 
master's  house. 

206 


MAN  WITH  MUCK-RAKE 

After  a   while,    because    supper   was    not   ready,    the 
Interpreter  took  them  into  his  Significant     The  significant 
Rooms,  and  showed  them  what  Christian,     Rooms 
Christiana's  husband,  had  seen  some  time  before.     Here 
therefore  they  saw  the  man  in  the  cage,  the  man  and  his 
dream,  the  man  that  cut  his  way  through  his  enemies,  and  the 
picture  of  the  biggest  of  them  all,  together  with  the  rest 
of  those  things  that  were  then  so  profitable  to  Christian. 

This  done,  and  after  these  things  had  been  some- 
what digested  by  Christiana  and  her  company,  the  Inter- 
preter takes  them  apart  again,  and  has  them  first  into  a 
room,  where  was  a  man  that  could  look 

.  .  The  man  with  the 

no   way  but   downwards,  with   a   muck-     muck-rake  ex- 
rake  in  his  hand.     There  stood  also  one     pounde 
over  his  head,  with  a  celestial  crown  in  his  hand,   and 
proffered  to  give  him  that  crown  for  his  muck-rake  ;  but  the 
man  did  neither  look  up  nor  regard,  but  raked  to  himself 
the  straws,  the  small  sticks,  and  dust  of  the  floor. 

Then  said  Christiana,  I  persuade  myself  that  I  know 
somewhat  the  meaning  of  this :  for  this  is  a  figure  of  a 
man  of  this  world  ;  is  it  not,  good  sir  ? 

Inter.  Thou  hast  said  the  right,  said  he;  and  his 
muck-rake  doth  show  his  carnal  mind.  And  whereas  thou 
seest  him  rather  give  heed  to  rake  up  straws  and  sticks, 
and  the  dust  of  the  floor,  than  to  do  what  He  says  that 
calls  to  him  from  above  with  the  celestial  crown  in 
His  hand ;  it  is  to  show,  that  heaven  is  but  as  a  fable  to 
some,  and  that  things  here  are  counted  the  only  things 
substantial.  Now,  whereas  it  was  also  showed  thee  that 
the  man  could  look  no  way  but  downwards  ;  it  is  to  let 
thee  know  that  earthly  things,  when  they  are  with  power 
upon  men's  minds,  quite  carry  their  hearts  away  from 
God. 

Chr.     Then  said  Christiana,  O  deliver     Christiana's 

me  from  this  mUCk-rake.  pray er agrainst the 

Inter.     That   prayer,    slid    the   Inter- 
preter, has   lain   by  till  'tis   almost  rusty :    Give  me  not 
riches,  is  scarce  the  prayer  of  one  of  ten  thousand.    Straws, 

207 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  sticks,  and  dust,  with  most,  are  the  great  things  now 
looked  after. 

With  that  Mercy  and  Christiana  wept,  and  said,  It  is, 
alas  !  too  true. 

When  the  Interpreter  had  showed  them  this,  he  had 

them  into  the  very  best  room  in  the  house ; — a  very  brave 

room  it  was.     So  he  bid  them  look  round  about,  and  see 

if  they  could  find  anything  profitable  there.     Then  they 

looked  round  and  round ;   for  there  was 

nothing  there  to  be  seen  but  a  very  great 

spider  on  the  wall,  and  that  they  overlooked. 

Mcr.  Then  said  Mercy,  Sir,  I  see  nothing:  but 
Christiana  held  her  peace. 

Inter.  But,  said  the  Interpreter,  look  again.  She 
therefore  looked  again,  and  said,  Here  is  not  any  thing 

Of  the  s  ider  ^Ut  an  u^  spider,   who  hangs   by  her 

hands  upon  the  wall.  Then  said  he,  Is 
there  but  one  spider  in  all  this  spacious  room  ?  Then  the 
water  stood  in  Christiana's  eyes,  for  she  was  a  woman 
Talk  about  the  quick  of  apprehension  :  and  she  said,  Yea, 
spider  Lord,  there  are  more  here  than  one ;  yea, 

and  spiders  whose  venom  is  far  more  destructive  than  that 
which  is  in  her.  The  Interpreter  then  looked  pleasantly 
upon  her,  and  said,  Thou  hast  said  the  truth.  This  made 
Mercy  blush,  and  the  boys  to  cover  their  faces  ;  for  they 
all  began  now  to  understand  the  riddle. 

Then    said    the   Interpreter   again,    The   spider  taketh 

hold  with  her  hands,  as  you  see,  and  is  in  kings'  palaces. 

And  wherefore  is  this  recorded,  but  to  show  you,  that 

how  full  of  the  venom  of  sin  soever  you 

The.  interpretation      7  ,  r    r  J.  , 

be,  yet  you  may,  by  the  hand  of  faith, 
lay  hold  of  and  dwell  in  the  best  room  that  belongs  to 
the  King's  house  above  ? 

Chr.  I  thought,  said  Christiana,  of  something  of  this  5 
but  I  could  not  imagine  it  all.  I  thought  that  we  were 
like  spiders,  and  that  we  looked  like  ugly  creatures,  in 
what  fine  room  soever  we  were:  but  that  by  this  spider, 
this  venomous  and  ill-favoured  creature,  we  were  to  leara 

208 


THE    MAN    WITH    THE    MUCK-RAKE 

A   man  that  could  look  no  iraj/  but  downwards,  tcith  a  muck-rcke 

in  his  hand.     There  stood  also  One  over  his  head,  with  a 

celestial  oroicn  in  His  hand,  and  proffered  to  give 

him    that    orown    for    his    muck-rake. 


THE  HEN  AND  CHICKENS 

how  to  act  faith,  that  came  not  into  my  mind^and 
yet  she  had  taken  hold  with  her  hands,  as  I  see,  and 
dwells  in  the  best  room  in  the  house.  God  has  made 
nothing  in  vain. 

Then  they  seemed  all  to  be  glad ;  but  the  water  stood 
in  their  eyes :  yet  they  looked  one  upon  another,  and  also 
bowed  before  the  Interpreter. 

He  had  them  then  into  another  room,  where  were  a  hen 
and  chickens,  and  bid  them  observe  a  while.  Of  the  hen  and 
So  one  of  the  chickens  went  to  the  trough  chickens 
to  drink ;  and  every  time  she  drank  she  lifted  up  her  head 
and  her  eyes  towards  heaven.  See,  said  he,  what  this 
little  chick  doth,  and  learn  of  her  to  acknowledge  whence 
your  mercies  come,  by  receiving  them  with  looking  up. 
Yet  again,  said  he,  observe  and  look :  so  they  gave  heed, 
and  perceived  that  the  hen  did  walk  in  a  four-fold  method 
towards  her  chickens  :  I.  She  had  a  common  call,  and  that 
she  hath  all  day  long.  2.  She  had  a  special  call,  and  that 
she  had  but  sometimes.  3.  She  had  a  brooding  note. 
And,  4.  She  had  an  outcry. 

Now,  said  he,  compare  this  hen  to  your  King,  and  these 
chickens  to  His  obedient  ones  ;  for  answerable  to  her,  Him- 
self has  His  methods  which  He  walketh  in  towards  His 
people.  By  His  common  call,  He  gives  nothing ;  by  His 
special  call,  He  always  has  something  to  give  ;  He  has  also 
a  brooding  voice,  for  them  that  are  under  His  wing ;  and 
He  has  an  outcry,  to  give  the  alarm  when  He  seeth  the 
enemy  come.  I  chose,  my  darlings,  to  lead  you  into  the 
room  where  such  things  are,  because  you  are  women,  and 
they  are  easy  for  you. 

Chr.     And,  sir,  said  Christiana,  pray  let  us  see  some 
more.    So  he  had  them  into  the  slaughter-house,  where  was 
a  butcher  killing  of  a  sheep;  and  behold,     ofthebutcher 
the  sheep  was  quiet,  and  took  her  death     and  the  sheep 
patiently.      Then    said   the   Interpreter,    You  must  leara 
of  this  sheep   to  suffer,  and  to  put  up  wrongs  without 
murmurings    and   complaints.      Behold   how   quietly    she 
takes  her  death,  and,  without  objecting,  she  suffereth  her 

209  o 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

skin  to  be  pulled  over  her  ears.  Your  King  doth  call  you 
His  sheep. 

After  this,  he  led  them  into  his  garden,  where  was  great 
nf ..  variety  of  flowers  ;  and  he  said,  Do  you 

Of  the  garden  Hi  •»       n       /->i     •  •  i      -XT- 

see  all  these  r  So  Christiana  said,  Yes. 
Then  said  he  again,  Behold,  the  flowers  are  divers  in 
stature,  in  quality,  and  colour,  and  smell,  and  virtue ;  and 
some  are  better  than  some ;  also  where  the  gardener  has 
set  them,  there  they  stand,  and  quarrel  not  one  with  another. 
Again,  he  had  them  into  his  field,  which  he  had  sowed 

Of  the  field  with  wneat  an<^  corn :  ^ut  when  they 

beheld  the  tops  of  all  were  cut  off,  only 
the  straw  remained,  he  said  again,  This  ground  was  dunged, 
and  ploughed,  and  sowed,  but  what  shall  we  do  with  the 
crop  ?  Then  said  Christiana,  Burn  some,  and  make  muck 
of  the  rest.  Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  Fruit,  you 
see,  is  that  thing  you  look  for ;  and  for  want  of  that  you 
condemn  it  to  the  fire,  and  to  be  trodden  under  foot  of 
men :  beware  that  in  this  you  condemn  not  yourselves. 

Then,  as  they  were  coming  in  from  abroad,  they  espied 
Of  the  robin  a  little  robin  with  a  great  spider  in  his 

and  the  spider  mouth.  So  the  Interpreter  said,  Look 
here.  So  they  looked,  and  Mercy  wondered ;  but 
Christiana  said,  What  a  disparagement  is  it  to  such  a 
little  pretty  bird  as  the  robin-red-breast  is,  he  being  also 
a  bird  above  many,  that  loveth  to  maintain  a  kind  of 
sociableness  with  men !  I  had  thought  they  had  lived 
upon  crumbs  of  bread,  or  upon  other  such  harmless 
matter;  I  like  him  worse  than  I  did. 

The  Interpreter  then  replied,  This  robin  is  an  emblem, 
very  apt  to  set  forth  some  professors  by ;  for  to  sight  they 
are,  as  this  robin,  pretty  of  note,  colour,  and  carriages. 
They  seem  also  to  have  a  very  great  love  for  professors 
that  are  sincere ;  and,  above  all  other,  to  desire  to  sociate 
with,  and  to  be  in  their  company,  as  if  they  could  live 
upon  the  good  man's  crumbs.  They  pretend  also,  that 
therefore  it  is  that  they  frequent  the  house  of  the  godly, 
and  the  appointments  of  the  Lord :  but  when  they  are  by 

210 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  SAYINGS 

themselves,  as  the  robin,  they  can  catch  and  gobble~up 
spiders;  they  can  change  their  diet,  drink  iniquity,  and 
swallow  down  sin  like  water. 

So  when  they  were  come  again  into  the  house,  because 
supper  as  yet  was  not  ready,  Christiana 
again  desired  that  the  Interpreter  would 
either  show,  or  tell  of,  some  other  things 
that  are  profitable. 

Then  the  Interpreter  began,  and  said :  The  fatter  the 
sow  is,  the  more  she  desires  the  mire  ;  the  fatter  the  ox  is, 
the  more  gamesomely  he  goes  to  the  slaughter ;  and  the 
more  healthy  the  lustful  man  is,  the  more  prone  he  is  unto 
evil.  There  is  a  desire  in  women  to  go  neat  and  fine; 
and  it  is  a  comely  thing  to  be  adorned  with  that  that  in 
God's  sight  is  of  great  price.  'Tis  easier  watching  a  night 
or  two,  than  to  sit  up  a  whole  year  together :  so  'tis  easier 
for  one  to  begin  to  profess  well,  than  to  hold  out  as  he 
should  to  the  end.  Every  shipmaster,  when  in  a  storm, 
will  willingly  cast  that  overboard  that  is  of  the  smallest 
value  in  the  vessel ;  but  who  will  throw  the  best  out  first  ? 
None  but  he  that  feareth  not  God.  One  leak  will  sink  a 
ship,  and  one  sin  will  destroy  a  sinner.  He  that  forgets 
his  friend,  is  ungrateful  unto  him ;  but  he  that  forgets  his 
Saviour,  is  unmerciful  to  himself.  He  that  lives  in  sin, 
and  looks  for  happiness  hereafter,  is  like  him  that  soweth 
cockle,  and  thinks  to  fill  his  barn  with  wheat  or  barley.  If 
a  man  would  live  well,  let  him  fetch  his  last  day  to  him, 
and  make  it  always  his  company-keeper.  Whispering,  and 
change  of  thoughts,  prove  that  sin  is  in  the  world.  If  the 
world,  which  God  sets  light  by,  is  counted  a  thing  of  that 
worth  with  men,  what  is  heaven  that  God  commendeth  ! 
If  the  life  that  is  attended  with  so  many  troubles,  is  so  loth 
to  be  let  go  by  us,  what  is  the  life  above !  Everybody 
will  cry  up  the  goodness  of  men  ;  but  who  is  there  that  is, 
as  he  should  be,  affected  with  the  goodness  of  God  ?  We 
seldom  sit  down  to  meat,  but  we  eat,  and  leave.  So  there 
is  in  Jesus  Christ  more  merit  and  righteousness  than  the 
whole  world  has  need  of. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

When  the  Interpreter  had  done,  he  takes  them  out  into 
Of  the  tree  that  his  garden  again,  and  had  them  to  a  tree, 
is  rotten  at  heart  whose  inside  was  all  rotten  and  gone,  and 
yet  it  grew  and  had  leaves.  Then  said  Mercy,  What 
means  this  ?  This  tree,  said  he,  whose  outside  is  fair,  and 
whose  inside  is  rotten,  is  that  to  which  many  may  be  com- 
pared that  are  in  the  garden  of  God  ;  who  with  their  mouths 
speak  high  in  behalf  of  God,  but  indeed  will  do  nothing 
for  Him ;  whose  leaves  are  fair,  but  their  heart  good  for 
nothing  but  to  be  tinder  for  the  devil's  tinderbox. 

Now  supper  was  ready,  the  table  spread,  and  all  things 
They  are  at  set  on  board;  so  they  sat  down,  and  did 

supper  eat>  -when  one  had  given  thanks.  And 

the  Interpreter  did  usually  entertain  those  that  lodged 
with  him  with  music  at  meals ;  so  the  minstrels  played. 
There  was  also  one  that  did  sing,  and  a  very  fine  voice  he 
had.  His  song  was  this  : 

The  Lord  is  only  my  support, 

And  He  that  doth  me  feed ; 
How  can  I  then  want  any  thing 

Whereof  I  stand  in  need? 

When  the  song  and  music  were  ended,  the  Interpreter 
Talk  su  r  asked  Christiana,  what  it  was  that  at  first 
did  move  her  thus  to  betake  herself  to  a 
pilgrim's  life.  Christiana  answered,  First,  the  loss  of  my 
A  repetition  of  husband  came  into  my  mind,  at  which  I 
Christiana's  ex-  was  heartily  grieved  ;  but  all  that  was  but 
natural  affection.  Then  after  that  came  the 
troubles  and  pilgrimage  of  my  husband  into  my  mind, 
and  also  how  like  a  churl  I  had  carried  it  to  him  as  to  that. 
So  guilt  took  hold  of  my  mind,  and  would  have  drawn  me 
into  the  pond,  but  that  opportunely  I  had  a  dream  of  the 
well-being  of  my  husband,  and  a  letter  sent  me  by  the  King 
of  that  country  where  my  husband  dwells,  to  come  to  Him. 
The  dream  and  the  letter  together  so  wrought  upon  my 
mind,  that  they  forced  me  to  this  way. 

Inter.  But  met  you  with  no  opposition  afore  you  set 
out  of  doors  ? 

212 


MERCY'S  EXPERIENCE 

Chr.  Yes,  a  neighbour  of  mine,  one  Mrs  Timorous : 
she  was  akin  to  him  that  would  have  persuaded  my 
husband  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions.  She  all-to-be- 
fooled me  for,  as  she  called  it,  my  intended  desperate 
adventure ;  she  also  urged  what  she  could  to  dishearten 
me  to  it,  the  hardships  and  troubles  that  my  husband 
met  with  in  the  way  5  but  all  this  I  got  over  pretty  well. 
But  a  dream  that  I  had  of  two  ill-looked  ones,  that  I 
thought  did  plot  how  to  make  me  miscarry  in  my  journey, 
that  hath  troubled  me  much :  yea,  it  still  runs  in  my  mind, 
and  makes  me  afraid  of  every  one  that  I  meet,  lest  they 
should  meet  me  to  do  me  a  mischief,  and  to  turn  me  out 
of  the  way.  Yea,  I  may  tell  my  Lord,  though  I  would 
not  have  everybody  know  it,  that  between  this  and  the 
gate  by  which  we  got  into  the  way,  we  were  both  so 
sorely  asaaulted,  that  we  were  made  to  cry  out  murder ; 
and  the  two  that  made  this  assault  upon  us  were  like  the 
two  that  I  saw  in  my  dream. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  Thy  beginning  is  good ;  thy 
latter  end  shall  greatly  increase.     So  he     A  question  put 
addressed  himself  to  Mercy,  and  said  unto     to  Mercy 
her,  And  what  moved  thee  to  come  hither,  sweet-heart  ? 

Mer.  Then  Mercy  blushed  and  trembled,  and  for  a 
while  continued  silent. 

Inter.  Then  said  he,  Be  not  afraid  5  only  believe,  and 
speak  thy  mind. 

Mer.     So  she  began,  and  said,  Truly,  sir,  my  want  of  ex- 
perience is  that  that  makes  me  covet  to  be  in 
silence,  and  that  also  that  fills  me  with  fears 
of  coming  shortatlast.  I  cannot  tell  of  visions  and  dreams,  as 
my  friend  Christiana  can ;  nor  know  I  what  it  is  to  mourn  for 
my  refusing  of  the  counsel  of  those  that  were  good  relations. 

Inter.  What  was  it  then,  dear  heart,  that  hath  pre- 
vailed with  thee  to  do  as  thou  hast  done  ? 

Mer.  Why,  when  our  friend  here  was  packing  up  to 
be  gone  from  our  town,  I  and  another  went  accidentally  to 
see  her.  So  we  knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in.  When 
we  were  within,  and  seeing  what  she  was  doing,  we  asked 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

what  was  her  meaning.  She  said,  she  was  sent  for  to 
go  to  her  husband ;  and  then  she  up  and  told  us  how  she 
had  seen  him  in  a  dream,  dwelling  in  a  curious  place, 
among  immortals,  wearing  a  crown,  playing  upon  a  harp, 
eating  and  drinking  at  his  Prince's  table,  and  singing  praises 
to  Him  for  bringing  him  thither,  etc.  Now  methought 
while  she  was  telling  these  things  unto  us,  my  heart  burned 
within  me.  And  I  said  in  my  heart,  If  this  be  true,  I  will 
leave  my  father  and  my  mother,  and  the  land  of  my  nativity, 
and  will,  if  I  may,  go  along  with  Christiana.  So  I  asked 
her  further  of  the  truth  of  these  things,  and  if  she  would 
let  me  go  with  her;  for  I  saw  now,  that  there  was  no 
dwelling,  but  with  the  danger  of  ruin,  any  longer  in  our 
town.  But  yet  I  came  away  with  a  heavy  heart ;  not  for 
that  I  was  unwilling  to  come  away,  but  for  that  so  many 
of  my  relations  were  left  behind.  And  I  am  come  with 
all  the  desire  of  my  heart,  and  will  go,  if  I  may,  with 
Christiana  unto  her  husband  and  his  King. 

Inter.  Thy  setting  out  is  good,  for  thou  hast  given 
credit  to  the  truth  ;  thou  art  a  Ruth,  who  did,  for  the  love 
that  she  bare  to  Naomi,  and  to  the  Lord  her  God,  leave 
father  and  mother,  and  the  land  of  her  nativity,  to  come 
out  and  go  with  a  people  that  she  knew  not  heretofore. 
The  Lord  recompense  thy  work,  and  full  reward  be  given 
thee  of  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  under  whose  wings  thou 
art  come  to  trust. 

Now  supper  was  ended,  and  preparations  were  made  for 
The  address  ked '  t^ie  women  were  laid  singly  alone, 

themseivers  for  and  the  boys  by  themselves.  Now  when 
Mercy  was  in  bed,  she  could  not  sleep  for 
joy,  for  that  now  her  doubts  of  missing  at  last  were  re- 
Mercy's  good  moved  further  from  her  than  ever  they 
nights  rest  were  before.  So  she  lay  blessing  and 
praising  God,  who  had  had  such  favour  for  her. 

In  the  morning  they  arose  with  the  sun,  and  prepared 
themselves  for  their  departure :  but  the  Interpreter  would 
have  them  tarry  a  while ;  For,  said  he,  you  must  orderly 
go  from  hence.  Then  said  he  to  the  damsel  that  at  first 


THE  BATH 

opened  unto  them,  Take  them  and  have  them  into  the  garden 
to    the    bath,  and   there  wash  them,  and     The  bath  of 
make  them  clean  from  the  soil  which  they     Sanctification 
have  gathered  by  travelling.     Then  Innocent  the  damsel 
took   them  and  had  them  into  the  garden,  and  brought 
them  to  the  bath ;  so  she  told  them,  that  there  they  must 
wash  and  be  clean,   for   so  her  master  would  have  the 
women  to  do,  that  called  at  his  house  as  they  were  going 
on  pilgrimage.     Then  they  went  in   and     ^^  wash  in  it 
washed,  yea,  they  and  the  boys  and  all ; 
and  they  came  out  of  the  bath,  not  only  sweet  and  clean, 
but  also  much  enlivened,  and  strengthened  in  their  joints. 
So  when  they  came  in,  they  looked  fairer  a  deal  than  when 
they  went  out  to  the  washing. 

When  they  were  returned  out  of  the  garden  from  the 
bath,  the  Interpreter  took  them,  and  looked  upon  them, 
and  said  unto  them,  Fair  as  the  moon.  Then  he  called 
for  the  seal,  wherewith  they  used  to  be  sealed  that  were 
washed  in  his  bath.  So  the  seal  was  Thg  aresealed 
brought,  and  he  set  his  mark  upon  them, 
that  they  might  be  known  in  the  places  whither  they  were 
yet  to  go.  Now  the  seal  was  the  contents  and  sum  of  the 
passover  which  the  children  of  Israel  did  eat,  when  they 
came  out  from  the  land  of  Egypt ;  and  the  mark  was 
set  betwixt  their  eyes.  This  seal  greatly  added  to  their 
beauty,  for  it  was  an  ornament  to  their  faces.  It  also 
added  to  their  gravity,  and  made  their  countenances  more 
like  those  of  angels. 

Then   said  the   Interpreter  again   to    the    damsel   that 
waited  upon  these'  women,  Go  into  the  vestry,  and  fetch 
out  garments  for  these  people.     So  she  went  and  fetched 
out  white  raiment,  and  laid  it  down  before  him ;   so  he 
commanded  them  to  put  it  on  :  it  was  fine     ^^  are  clothed 
linen,  white  and  clean.     When  the  women 
were  thus  adorned,  they  seemed  to  be  a  terror  one  to  the 
other;  for  that  they  could  not  see  that      Truehumility 
glory  each  one  had  on  herself,  which  they 
could  see  in  each  other.     Now  therefore  they  began  to 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

esteem  each  other  better  than  themselves.  For,  You  are 
fairer  than  I  am,  said  one ;  and,  You  are  more  comely  than 
I  am,  said  another.  The  children  also  stood  amazed,  to 
see  into  what  fashion  they  were  brought. 

The  Interpreter  then  called  for  a  man-servant  of  his, 
one  Great-heart,  and  bid  him  take  sword,  and  helmet,  and 
shield ;  and,  Take  these  my  daughters,  said  he,  and  conduct 
them  to  the  house  called  Beautiful,  at  which  place  they 
will  rest  next.  So  he  took  his  weapons,  and  went  before 
them ;  and  the  Interpreter  said,  God  speed.  Those  also 
that  belonged  to  the  family,  sent  them  away  with  many  a 
good  wish.  So  they  went  on  their  way,  and  sang : 

This  place  has  been  our  second  stage: 

Here  we  have  heard  and  seen 
Those  good  things,  that  from  age  to  age 

To  others  hid  have  been. 

The  dunghill-raker,  spider,  hen, 

The  chicken,  too,  to  me 
Hath  taught  a  lesson :  let  me  then 

Conformed  to  it  be. 

The  butcher,  garden,  and  the  field,  • 

The  robin  and  his  bait, 
Also  the  rotten  tree,  doth  yield 
i     Me  argument  of  weight; 

To  move  me  for  to  watch  and  pray 

To  strive  to  be  sincere: 
To  take  my  cross  up  day  by  day, 

And  serve  the  Lord  with  fear. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on,  and  Great- 
heart  went  before  them.  So  they  went,  and  came  to  the  place 
where  Christian's  burden  fell  off  his  back,  and  tumbled 
into  a  sepulchre.  Here  then  they  made  a  pause  ;  and  here 
also  they  blessed  God.  Now,  said  Christiana,  it  comes  to 
my  mind  what  was  said  to  us  at  the  gate,  to  wit,  that  we 
should  have  pardon  by  word  and  deed ;  by  word,  that  is, 
by  the  promise ;  by  deed,  to  wit,  in  the  way  it  was  ob- 
tained. What  the  promise  is,  of  that  I  know  something  5 

216 


JUSTIFIED  BY  CHRIST 

but  what  is  it  to  have  pardon  by  deed,  or  in  the  way  that 
it  was  obtained,  Mr  Great-heart,  I  suppose  you  know, 
wherefore,  if  you  please,  let  us  hear  your  discourse  thereof. 
Great.  Pardon  by  the  deed  done,  is  pardon  obtained 
by  some  one  for  another  that  hath  need  Acomment 
thereof:  not  by  the  person  pardoned,  but  what  was  said  at 

. J,  r,  •          i  •    i     T  i  the  sate,  or  a  dis- 

m  the  way,  saith  another,  in  which  I  have  course  o/our being 
obtained  it.  So  then,  to  speak  to  the  Justi 
question  more  at  large,  the  pardon  that  you,  and  Mercy, 
and  these  boys,  have  attained,  was  obtained  by  another  j 
to  wit,  by  Him  that  let  you  in  at  the  gate.  And  He  hath 
obtained  it  in  this  double  way  ;  He  has  performed  righteous- 
ness to  cover  you,  and  spilt  blood  to  wash  you  in. 

Chr.  But  if  He  parts  with  His  righteousness  to  us, 
what  will  He  have  for  Himself  ? 

Great.  He  has  more  righteousness  than  you  have  need 
of,  or  than  He  needeth  Himself. 

Chr.     Pray  make  that  appear. 

Great.  With  all  my  heart :  but  first  I  must  premise, 
that  He  of  whom  we  are  now  about  to  speak,  is  one  that 
has  not  His  fellow.  He  has  two  natures  in  one  person, 
plain  to  be  distinguished,  impossible  to  be  divided.  Unto 
each  of  these  natures  a  righteousness  belongeth,  and  each 
righteousness  is  essential  to  that  nature ;  so  that  one  may 
as  easily  cause  the  nature  to  be  extinct,  as  to  separate  its 
justice  or  righteousness  from  it.  Of  these  righteousnesses 
therefore  we  are  not  made  partakers,  so  as  that  they,  or 
any  of  them,  should  be  put  upon  us,  that  we  might  be 
made  just,  and  live  thereby.  Besides  these,  there  is  a 
righteousness,  which  this  person  has,  as  these  two  natures 
are  joined  in  one.  And  this  is  not  the  righteousness  of 
the  Godhead,  as  distinguished  from  the  manhood ;  nor  the 
righteousness  of  the  manhood,  as  distinguished  from  the 
Godhead  ;  but  a  righteousness  which  standeth  in  the  union 
of  both  natures,  and  may  properly  be  called  the  righteous- 
ness that  is  essential  to  His  being  prepared  of  God  to  the 
capacity  of  the  mediatory  office,  which  He  was  to  be  in- 
trusted with.  If  He  parts  with  His  first  righteousness,  He 

217 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

parts  with  His  Godhead ;  if  He  parts  with  His  second 
righteousness,  He  parts  with  the  purity  of  His  manhood ; 
if  He  parts  with  this  third,  He  parts  with  that  perfection 
which  capacitates  Him  for  the  office  of  mediation.  He  has 
therefore  another  righteousness,  which  standeth  in  per- 
formance, or  obedience  to  a  revealed  will ;  and  that  is  it 
that  He  puts  upon  sinners,  and  that  by  which  their  sins 
are  covered.  Wherefore  He  saith,  As  by  one  man's  dis- 
obedience many  were  made  sinners,  so  by  the  obedience  of 
One  shall  many  be  made  righteous. 

Chr.     But  are  the  other  righteousnesses  of  no  use  to  us  ? 

Great.  Yes ;  for  though  they  are  essential  to  His  natures 
and  office,  and  so  cannot  be  communicated  unto  another;  yet 
it  is  by  virtue  of  them  that  the  righteousness  that  justifies 
is  for  that  purpose  efficacious.  The  righteousness  of  His 
Godhead  gives  virtue  to  His  obedience  ;  the  righteousness 
of  His  manhood  giveth  capability  to  His  obedience  to 
justify ;  and  the  righteousness  that  standeth  in  the  union 
of  these  two  natures  to  His  office,  giveth  authority  to  that 
righteousness  to  do  the  work  for  which  it  is  ordained. 

So  then  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God,  has 
no  need  of;  for  He  is  God  without  it.  Here  is  a  righteous- 
ness that  Christ,  as  man,  has  no  need  of  to  make  Him  so ; 
for  He  is  perfect  man  without  it.  Again,  here  is  a  righteous- 
ness that  Christ,  as  God-man,  has  no  need  of;  for  He  is 
perfectly  so  without  it.  Here  then  is  a  righteousness  that 
Christ,  as  God,  as  man,  as  God-man,  has  no  need  of  with 
reference  to  Himself,  and  therefore  He  can  spare  it  ;  a 
justifying  righteousness,  that  He  for  Himself  wanteth 
not,  and  therefore  He  giveth  it  away.  Hence  'tis  called 
the  gift  of  righteousness.  This  righteousness,  since 
Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  has  made  Himself  under  the  law, 
must  be  given  away ;  for  the  law  doth  not  only  bind  him 
that  is  under  it,  to  do  justly,  but  to  use  charity.  "Where- 
fore he  must,  he  ought  by  the  law,  if  he  hath  two  coats, 
to  give  one  to  him  that  has  none.  Now  our  Lord  indeed 
hath  two  coats,  one  for  Himself,  and  one  to  spare ;  where- 
fore He  freely  bestows  one  upon  those  that  have  none, 

2:8 


JUSTIFIED  BY  CHRIST 

And  thus,  Christiana  and  Mercy,  and  the  rest  of  you  that 
are  here,  doth  your  pardon  come  by  deed,  or  by  the  work 
of  another  man.  Your  Lord  Christ  is  He  that  has  worked, 
and  given  away  what  He  wrought  for  to  the  next  poor 
beggar  He  meets. 

But  again,  in  order  to  pardon  by  deed,  there  must 
something  be  paid  to  God  as  a  price,  as  well  as  something 
prepared  to  cover  us  withal.  Sin  has  delivered  us  up  to 
the  just  curse  of  a  righteous  law  :  now  from  this  curse  we 
must  be  justified  by  way  of  redemption,  a  price  being 
paid  for  the  harms  we  have  done  ;  and  this  is  by  the 
blood  of  your  Lord,  who  came  and  stood  in  your  place 
and  stead,  and  died  your  death  for  your  transgressions. 
Thus  has  He  ransomed  you  from  your  transgressions  by 
blood,  and  covered  your  polluted  and  deformed  souls 
with  righteousness,  for  the  sake  of  which,  God  passeth 
by  you,  and  will  not  hurt  you  when  He  comes  to  judge 
the  world. 

Chr.  This  is  brave  !  Now  I  see  that  there  was 
something  to  be  learned  by  our  being  Christiana 
pardoned  by  word  and  deed.  Good  affected  with  this 
Mercy,  let  us  labour  to  keep  this  in  ™*  <*"*"*#*« 
mind  :  and,  my  children,  do  you  remember  it  also.  But, 
sir,  was  not  this  it  that  made  my  good  Christian's  burden 
fall  from  off  his  shoulder,  and  that  made  him  give  three 
leaps  for  joy  ? 

Great.     Yes,  'twas  the  belief  of  this  that  cut  those 
strings,  that  could   not   be  cut   by  other 
means;   and  'twas   to  give  him   a   proof 


of  the  virtue  of  this,  that  he  was  suffered     tian's  burden  to 

,  .     ,         .  ,  mm  were  cut 

to  carry  his  burden  to  the  cross. 

Chr.  I  thought  so  5  for  though  my  heart  was  lightful 
and  joyous  before,  yet  it  is  ten  times  more  lightsome  and 
joyous  now.  And  I  am  persuaded  by  what  I  have  felt, 
though  -I  have  felt  but  little  as  yet,  that  if  the  most 
burdened  man  in  the  world  was  here,  and  did  see  and 
believe  as  I  now  do,  'twould  make  his  heart  merry  and 
blithe. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Great.  There  is  not  only  comfort  and  the  ease  of  a 
HOW  affection  to  burden  brought  to  us  by  the  sight  and 
Christ  is  begot  consideration  of  these,  but  an  endeared 
affection  begot  in  us  by  it ;  for  who  can, 
if  he  doth  but  once  think  that  pardon  comes  not  only  by 
promise  but  thus,  but  be  affected  with  the  way  and  means 
of  his  redemption,  and  so  with  the  Man  that  hath  wrought 
it  for  him  ? 

Chr.  True  ;  methinks  it  makes  my  heart  bleed,  to 
think  that  He  should  bleed  for  me.  O  Thou  loving 
One !  O  Thou  blessed  One !  Thou  deservest  to  have 
me;  Thou  hast  bought  me.  Thou  deservest  to  have 
Cause  of  admira-  me  a^  >  Thou  hast  paid  for  me  ten 
tion  thousand  times  more  than  I  am  worth. 

No  marvel  that  this  made  the  water  stand  in  my  husband's 
eyes,  and  that  it  made  him  trudge  so  nimbly  on.  I  am 
persuaded  he  wished  me  with  him  :  but,  vile  wretch  that  I 
was  !  I  let  him  come  all  alone.  O  Mercy,  that  thy  father 
and  mother  were  here  !  yea,  and  Mrs  Timorous  also  !  nay, 
I  wish  now  with  all  my  heart  that  here  was  Madam  Wanton 
too.  Surely,  surely,  their  hearts  would  be  affected  ;  nor 
could  the  fear  of  the  one,  nor  the  powerful  lusts  of  the 
other,  prevail  with  them  to  go  home  again,  and  to  refuse 
to  become  good  pilgrims. 

Great.  You  speak  now  in  the  warmth  of  your 
affections ;  will  it,  think  you,  be  always  thus  with  you  ? 
Besides,  this  is  not  communicated  to  every  one,  not  to 
every  one  that  did  see  your  Jesus  bleed.  There  were 
that  stood  by,  and  that  saw  the  blood  run  from  His  heart 
to  the  ground,  and  yet  were  so  far  off  this,  that,  instead  of 
lamenting,  they  laughed  at  Him,  and,  instead  of  becoming 
To  be  affected  ^s  disciples,  did  harden  their  hearts 
with  Christ,  and  against  Him.  So  that  all  that  you  have, 

with  what  He  has  j          i  i_  v        • 

done,  is  a  thing  my  daughters,  you  nave  by  peculiar  im- 
special  pression  made  by  a  divine  contemplating 

upon  what  I  have  spoken  to  you.  Remember  that  'twas 
told  you,  that  the  hen,  by  her  common  call,  gives  no  meat 
to  her  chickens.  This  you  have  therefore  by  a  special  grace. 

220 


SIMPLE  AND  SLOTH 

Now  I  saw  still  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  until 
they  were  come  to  the  place  that  Simple,  and  Sloth,  and 
Presumption  lay  and  slept  in,  when  Christian  went  by  on 
pilgrimage :  and  behold,  they  were  hanged  up  in  irons  a 
little  way  off  on  the  other  side. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy  to  him  that  was  their 
guide  and  conductor  What  are  these  ^  Sloth> 

three  menr  and  tor  what  are  they  hanged  and  Presumption 

tjiere  p  hanged;  and  why 

Great.  These  three  men  were  men  of  very  bad  qualities ; 
they  had  no  mind  to  be  pilgrims  themselves,  and  whoso- 
ever they  could  they  hindered.  They  were  for  sloth  and 
folly  themselves,  and  whoever  they  could  persuade  with 
they  made  so  too,  and  withal  taught  them  to  presume  that 
they  should  do  well  at  last.  They  were  asleep  when 
Christian  went  by,  and  now  you  go  by  they  are  hanged. 

Mer.  But  could  they  persuade  any  to  be  of  their 
opinion  ? 

Great.     Yes,   they   turned   several   out   of  the   way. 
There  was  Slow-pace  that  they  persuaded 
to  do  as  they.     They  also  prevailed  with 
one  Short-wind,  with  one  No-heart,  with  one  Linger-after- 
lust,  and  with  one  Sleepy-head,  and  with  a  young  woman, 
her  name  was  Dull,  to  turn  out  of  the  way  and  become 
as  they.     Besides,  they  brought  up  an  ill     whotheypre. 
report  of  your  Lord,  persuading  others  that     vailed  upon  to  turn 
He  was  a  taskmaster.     They  also  brought 
up  an  evil  report  of  the  good  land,  saying,  'twas  not  half  so 
good  as  some  pretend  it  was.     They  also  began  to  vilify 
His  servants,  and  to  count  the  very  best  of  them  meddlesome, 
troublesome  busy-bodies.     Further,  they  would  call  the 
bread  of  God  husks  ;  the  comforts  of  His  children  fancies  ; 
the  travel  and  labour  of  pilgrims,  things  to  no  purpose. 

Chr.  Nay,  said  Christiana,  if  they  were  such,  they 
shall  never  be  bewailed  by  me :  they  have  but  what  they 
deserve ;  and  I  think  it  is  well  that  they  hang  so  near  the 
highway,  that  others  may  see  and  take  warning.  But  had 
it  not  been  well  if  their  crimes  had  been  engraven  in  some 

221 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

plate  of  iron  or  brass,  and  left  here  even  where  they  did 
their  mischiefs,  for  a  caution  to  other  bad  men  ? 

Great.  So  it  is,  as  you  well  may  perceive,  if  you  will 
go  a  little  to  the  wall. 

Mer.  No,  no  ;  let  them  hang,  and  their  names  rot,  and 
their  crimes  live  for  ever  against  them.  I  think  it  a  high 
favour  that  they  were  hanged  afore  we  came  hither  ; 
who  knows  else  what  they  might  a  done  to  such  poor 
women  as  we  are  ?  Then  she  turned  it  into  a  song,  saying  : 

Now  then  you  three  hang  there,  and  be  a  sign 
To  all  that  shall  against  the  truth  combine. 
And  let  him  that  comes  after  fear  this  end, 
If  unto  pilgrims  he  is  not  a  friend. 
And  thou,  my  soul,  of  all  such  men  beware, 
That  unto  holiness  opposers  are. 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  at  the  foot  of  the  Hill 

Difficulty,  where  again  their  good  friend  Mr  Greatheart 

took  an  occasion  to  tell  them  of  what  happened  there  when 

Christian  himself  went  by.    So  he  had  them  first  to  the 

spring.    Lo,  saith  he,  this  is  the  spring  that  Christian  drank 

of  before  he  went  up  this  hill  :  and  then 

Sting-  of  good         'twas  clear  and  good  5  but  now  'tis  dirty 


enron'onstimes  witn  t^1C  ^eet  °^  SOme  that  are  nOt 

that  pilgrims  here  should  quench  their 
thirst.  Thereat  Mercy  said,  And  why  so  envious,  trow  ? 
But,  said  the  guide,  it  will  do,  if  taken  up  and  put  into  a 
vessel  that  is  sweet  and  good  ;  for  then  the  dirt  will  sink 
to  the  bottom,  and  the  water  come  out  by  itself  more  clear. 
Thus  therefore  Christiana  and  her  companions  were  com- 
pelled to  do.  They  took  it  up,  and  put  it  into  an  earthen 
pot,  and  so  let  it  stand  till  the  dirt  was  gone  to  the  bottom, 
and  then  they  drank  thereof. 

Next  he  snowed  them  the  two  by-ways  that  were  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  where  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  lost  them- 

selves.    And,  said  he,  these  are  dangerous 
bed  up,  wm  not     paths.     Two  were  here  cast  away  when 

Christian  came  by  ;  and  although,  as  you 

see,  these  ways  are  since  stopped  up 
with  chains,  posts,  and  a  ditch,  yet  there  are  that  will 

222 


CLIMBING    THE    HILL    DIFFICULTY 

'Come,  come,"  said   Great-heart,  "sit  not  down  here;   for  o, 
little  above  is   the  Prince's  arbour." 


ARBOUR  ON  THE  HILL 

choose  to  adventure  here  rather  than  take  the  pains  to  go 
up  this  hill. 

Chr.  The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard.  'Tis  a  wonder 
that  they  can  get  into  those  ways  without  danger  of  break- 
ing their  necks. 

Great.  They  will  venture ;  yea,  if  at  any  time  any  of 
the  King's  servants  doth  happen  to  see  them,  and  doth  call 
upon  them,  and  tell  them  that  they  are  in  the  wrong  way, 
and  do  bid  them  beware  of  the  danger;  then  they  will 
railingly  return  them  answer,  and  say,  As  for  the  word 
that  thou  hast  spoken  unto  us  in  the  name  of  the  King, 
we  will  not  hearken  unto  thee ;  but  we  will  certainly 
do  whatsoever  thing  goeth  out  of  our  own  mouths. 
Nay,  if  you  look  a  little  further,  you  will  see  that  these 
ways  are  made  cautionary  enough,  not  only  by  these  posts, 
and  ditch,  and  chain,  but  also  by  being  hedged  up :  yet 
they  will  choose  to  go  there. 

Chr.     They  are  idle ;  they  love  not  to  take  pains  ;  up-> 
hill  way  is  unpleasant  to  them.     So  it  is     The  reason  wh 
fulfilled  unto  them  as  it  is  written,  The     some  do  choose 
way  of  the  slothful  man   is  a  hedge   of 
thorns.     Yea,  they  will  rather  choose  to  walk  upon  a  snare, 
than  to  go  up  this  hill,  and  the  rest  of  this  way  to  the  city. 

Then  they  set  forward,  and  began  to  go  up  the  hill,  and 
up  the  hill  they  went.     But  before  they     The  hm  puts  the 
got  to  the  top,  Christiana  began  to  pant,     pilgrims  to  it 
and  said,  I  dare  say  this  is  a  breathing  hill ;  no  marvel  if 
they  that  love  their  ease  more  than  their  souls  choose  to 
themselves  a  smoother  way.     Then  said  Mercy,  I  must  sit 
down  :  also  the  least  of  the  children  began  to  cry.     Come, 
come,  said  Great-heart,  sit  not  down  here ;   for  a  little 
above  is  the  Prince's  arbour.     Then  took  he  the  little  boy 
by  the  hand,  and  led  him  up  thereto. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  arbour,  they  were  very 
willing  to  sit  down,  for  they  were  all  in  a     They  sit  in  the 
pelting   heat.      Then   said   Mercy,   How     arbour 
sweet  is  rest  to  them  that  labour,  and  how  good  is  the 
Prince  of  pilgrims  to  provide  such  resting-places  for  them ! 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Of  this  arbour  I  have  heard  much ;  but  I  never  saw  it 
before.  But  here  let  us  beware  of  sleeping;  for,  as  I  have 
heard,  for  that  it  cost  poor  Christian  dear. 

Then  said  Mr  Great-heart  to  the  little  ones,  Come,  my 

pretty  boys,  how  do  you  do  ?  what  think  you  now  of  going 

on  pilgrimage  ?     Sir,  said  the  least,  I  was 

Inswerltot£*  almost  beat  out  of  heart ;  but  I  thank  you 

to  Mercyd  ^^         ^or  lending  me  a  hand  at  my  need.    And  I 

remember  now  what  my  mother  has  told 

me,  namely,  that  the  way  to  heaven  is  as  up  a  ladder,  and 

the  way  to  hell  is  as  down  a  hill.     But  I  had  rather  go  up 

the  ladder  to  life,  than  down  the  hill  to  death. 

Then  said  Mercy,  But  the  proverb  is,  To  go  down  the 
hill  is  easy.  But  James  said  (for  that  was  his  name),  The 
Which  is  hardest,  d*J  is  coming  when,  in  my  opinion,  going 
up  hm  or  down  '  down  hill  will  be  the  hardest  of  all. 
'Tis  a  good  boy,  said  his  master;  thou 
hast  given  her  a  right  answer.  Then  Mercy  smiled,  but 
the  little  boy  did  blush. 

Chr.  Come,  said  Christiana,  will  you  eat  a  bit,  a  little 
They  refresh  to  sweeten  your  mouths  while  you  sit  here 

themselves  to  rest  your  legs  ?  for  I  have  here  a  piece 

of  pomegranate,  which  Mr  Interpreter  put  in  my  hand 
just  when  I  came  out  of  his  doors  :  he  gave  me  also  a  piece 
of  a  honeycomb,  and  a  little  bottle  of  spirits.  I  thought 
he  gave  you  something,  said  Mercy,  because  he  called 
you  a  to-side.  Yes,  so  he  did,  said  the  other;  but, 
Mercy,  it  shall  still  be  as  I  said  it  should,  when  at  first  we 
came  from  home ;  thou  shalt  be  a  sharer  in  all  the  good 
that  I  have,  because  thou  so  willingly  didst  become  my 
companion.  Then  she  gave  to  them,  and  they  did  eat, 
both  Mercy  and  the  boys.  And,  said  Christiana  to 
Mr  Great-heart,  sir,  will  you  do  as  we  ?  But  he 
answered,  You  are  going  on  pilgrimage,  and  presently 
I  shall  return;  much  good  may  what  you  have  do  to 
you :  at  home  I  eat  the  same  every  day.  Now  when  they 
had  eaten  and  drank,  and  had  chatted  a  little  longer,  their 
guide  said  to  them,  The  day  wears  away ;  if  you  think 

224 


CHRISTIANA'S  SPIRITS 

good,  let  us  prepare  to  be  going.  So  they  got  up  to  go, 
and  the  little  boys  went  before ;  but  Christiana  forgot  to 
take  her  bottle  of  spirits  with  her,  so  she  ~,  . 

i         t.ii          «  *  «  f       t.          *-r-«t  Christiana  for- 

sent  her  little  boy  back  to  fetch  it.     Then     gets  her  bottle 
said  Mercy,  I  think  this  is  a  losing  place ; 
here  Christian  lost  his  roll,  and  here  Christiana  left  her 
bottle  behind  her :  sir,  what  is  the  cause  of  this  ?    So  their 
guide  made  answer,  and  said,  The  cause  is  sleep,  or  forget- 
fulness:   some  sleep  when  they  should  keep  awake,  and 
some  forget  when  they  should  remember ;  and  this  is  the 
very  cause  why  often  at  the  resting-places  some  pilgrims, 
in  some  things,  come  off  losers.     Pilgrims  should  watch, 
and  remember  what  they  have  already  received,  under  their 
greatest  enjoyments  ;  but  for  want  of  doing     Markthis| 
so,  ofttimes  their  rejoicing  ends  in  tears, 
and  their  sunshine  in  a  cloud  5  witness  the  story  of  Christian 
at  this  place. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  Mistrust  and 
Timorous  met  Christian,  to  persuade  him  to  go  back  for 
fear  of  the  lions,  they  perceived  as  it  were  a  stage,  and 
before  it,  towards  the  road,  a  broad  plate,  with  a  copy  of 
verses  written  thereon,  and  underneath  the  reason  of  the 
raising  up  of  that  stage  in  that  place  rendered.  The 
verses  were  these : 

Let  him  that  sees  this  stage,  take  heed 

Unto  his  heart  and  tongue: 
Lest,  if  he  do  not,  here  he  speed 

As  some  have  long  agone. 

The  words  underneath  the  verses  were,  This  stage 
was  built  to  punish  such  upon  who,  through  timorous- 
ness  or  mistrust,  shall  be  afraid  to  go  further  on  pilgrim- 
age. Also,  on  this  stage  both  Mistrust  and  Timorous 
were  burned  through  the  tongue  with  a  hot  iron,  for 
endeavouring  to  hinder  Christian  in  his  journey. 

Then  said  Mercy,  This  is  much  like  to  the  saying  of 
the  Beloved,  What  shall  be  given  unto  thee,  or  what 
shall  be  done  unto  thee,  thou  false  tongue  ?  Sharp  arrows 
of  the  mighty,  with  coals  of  juniper. 

225  p 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

So  they  went  on  till  they  came  within  sight  of  the  lions. 
Now  Mr  Great-heart  was  a  strong  man,  so  he  was  not 
afraid  of  a  lion.  But  yet  when  they  were  come  up  to  the 
place  where  the  lions  were,  the  boys,  that  went  before, 
An  emblem  of  were  now  glad  to  cringe  behind,  for  they 

those  that  go  on  were  afraid  of  the  lions;  so  they  stepped 
there  us  no  back,  and  went  behind.  At  this  their 

sSkrwhen  guide  smiled,  and  said,  How  now,  my 

troubles  come  boys,  do  you  love  to  go  before  when  no 

danger  doth  approach,  and  love  to  come  behind  so  soon 
as  the  lions  appear  ? 

Now  as  they  went  up  Mr  Great-heart  drew  his  sword, 

with  intent  to  make  a  way  for  the  pilgrims  in  spite  of  the 

lions.     Then  there  appeared  one  that,  it 

Of  Grim  the  ,      .         .  '     ,  .  ,        .        . 

eiant,  and  of  his        seems,  had  taken  upon  him  to  back  the 

Backing  the  lions         1;ons  .    &nd  he   said   tQ  ^  pilgrims>  guide> 

"What  is  the  cause  of  your  coming  hither  ?  Now  the 
name  of  that  man  was  Grim,  or  Bloody-man,  because  of 
his  slaying  of  pilgrims ;  and  he  was  of  the  race  of  the  giants. 

Great.  Then  said  the  pilgrims'  guide,  These  women 
and  children  are  going  on  pilgrimage,  and  this  is  the  way 
they  must  go ;  and  go  it  they  shall,  in  spite  of  thee  and 
the  lions. 

Grim.  This  is  not  their  way,  neither  shall  they  go 
therein.  I  am  come  forth  to  withstand  them,  and  to  that 
end  will  back  the  lions. 

Now,  to  say  truth,  by  reason  of  the  fierceness  of  the 
lions,  and  of  the  grim  carriage  of  him  that  did  back 
them,  this  way  had  of  late  lain  much  unoccupied,  and 
was  almost  all  grown  over  with  grass. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  Though  the  highways  have 
been  unoccupied  heretofore,  and  though  the  travellers 
have  been  made  in  time  past  to  walk  through  bypaths,  it 
must  not  be  so  now  I  am  risen,  now  I  am  risen  a  mother 
in  Israel. 

Grim.  Then  he  swore  by  the  lions  but  it  should,  and 
therefore  bid  them  turn  aside,  for  they  should  not  have 
passage  there. 

226 


THE  PORTER'S  LODGE 

But   Great-heart  their  guide  made  first  his  approach 
unto    Grim,   and    laid    so   heavily  at  him     A  fight  betwixt 

with    his    SWOrd,    that    he    forced    him    tO    a       Grim  and  Great- 
heart 

retreat. 

Grim.     Then  said  he  that  attempted  to  back  the  lions, 
Will  you  slay  me  upon  mine  own  ground  ? 

Great.     'Tis  the  King's  highway  that  we  are  in,  and  in 
His  way  it  is  that  thou  hast  placed  thy  lions ;  but  these 
women,  and  these  children,  though  weak,  shall  hold  on 
their  way  in  spite  of  thy  lions.     And  with  that  he  gave 
him  again  a  downright  blow,  and  brought  him  upon  his 
knees.     With  this  blow  he  also  broke  his  helmet,  and 
with  the  next  he  cut  off  an  arm.     Then  did  the  giant  roar 
so  hideously,   that   his    voice   frighted   the   women,  and 
yet  they  were  glad  to  see  him  lie  sprawling  upon  the 
ground.     Now  the  lions  were  chained,  and  so  of  them- 
selves   could    do    nothing.       Wherefore, 
when   old    Grim,   that  intended    to   back 
them,   was  dead,   Mr  Great-heart   said  to  the  pilgrims, 
Come  now,  and  follow  me,  and  no  hurt  shall  happen  to 
you  from  the  lions.     They  therefore  went     They  pass  by  the 
on,  but  the  women  trembled  as  they  passed     lions 
by  them ;  the  boys  also  looked  as  if  they  would  die ;  but 
they  all  got  by  without  further  hurt. 

Now  then  they  were  within  sight  of  the  Porter's 
lodge,  and  they  soon  came  up  unto  it ;  but  they  made  the 
more  haste  after  this  to  go  thither,  because  'tis  dangerous 
travelling  there  in  the  night.  So  when  they  were  come  to 
the  gate,  the  guide  knocked,  and  the  They  come  to  the 
Porter  cried,  Who  is  there?  But  as  soon  Porter's  lodge 
as  the  guide  had  said,  It  is  I,  he  knew  his  voice,  and  came 
down,  for  the  guide  had  oft  before  that  come  thither  as 
a  conductor  of  pilgrims.  When  he  was  come  down  he 
opened  the  gate  ;  and  seeing  the  guide  standing  just  before 
it  (for  he  saw  not  the  women,  for  they  were  behind  him), 
he  said  unto  him,  How  now,  Mr  Great-heart,  what  is 
your  business  here  so  late  to-night  ?  I  have  brought, 
said  he,  some  pilgrims  hither,  where,  by  my  Lord's 

227 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

commandment,  they  must  lodge :  I  had  been  here  some 
time  ago,  had  I  not  been  opposed  by  the  giant  that  did 
use  to  back  the  lions.  But  I,  after  a  long  and  tedious 
combat  with  him,  have  cut  him  off,  and  have  brought  the 
pilgrims  hither  in  safety. 

Por.     Will  you  not  go  in,  and  stay  till  morning  ? 
Great-keart  Great.     No,  I  will  return  to  my  Lord 

attempts  to  go  tO-night. 

Chr.  O  sir,  I  know  not  how  to  be 
willing  you  should  leave  us  in  our  pilgrimage,  you  have 
been  so  faithful  and  so  loving  to  us.  You  have  fought 
so  stoutly  for  us,  you  have  been  so  hearty  in  counselling 
of  us,  that  I  shall  never  forget  your  favour  towards  us. 
Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  Oh  that  we  might  have  thy 
company  to  our  journey's  end!  How 
can  such  poor  women  as  we  hold  out  in 
a  way  so  full  of  troubles  as  this  way  is, 
without  a  friend  and  defender  ? 

James.  Then  said  James,  the  youngest  of  the  boys, 
Pray,  sir,  be  persuaded  to  go  with  us,  and  help  us, 
because  we  are  so  weak,  and  the  way  so  dangerous  as 
it  is. 

Great.     I  am  at  my  Lord's  commandment ;  if  He  shall 

allot  me  to  be  your  guide  quite  through,  I  will  willingly 

wait  upon  you.     But  here  you  failed  at  first ;  for  when 

•   He  bid  me  come  thus  far  with  you,  then 

wan? ofaskLg         you  should  have  begged  me  of  Him  to 

have  gone  quite  through  with  you,  and 

He   would   have   granted    your   request.      However,    at 

present  I  must  withdraw  ;  and  so,  good  Christiana,  Mercy, 

and  my  brave  children,  adieu. 

Then  the  Porter,  Mr  Watchful,  asked  Christiana  of  her 
country,  and  of  her  kindred.  And  she  said,  I  came  from 
the  City  of  Destruction.  I  am  a  widow  woman,  and  my 
husband  is  dead ;  his  name  was  Christian  the  pilgrim. 
How  !  said  the  Porter,  was  he  your  husband  ?  Yes,  said 
she,  and  these  are  his  children;  and  this,  pointing  to 
Mercy,  is  one  of  my  townswomen.  Then  the  Porter 

228 


THE  PILGRIMS  ENTERTAINED 

rang  his  bell,  as  at  such  times  he  is  wont,  and  there  came 
to  the  door  one  of  the  damsels,  whose  name  was  Humble- 
mind  ;  and  to  her  the  Porter  said,  Go  tell  it  within  that 
Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian,   and  her  children,  are 
come  hither  on  pilgrimage.     She  went  in  therefore,  and 
told  it.    But  oh,  what  a  noise  for  gladness     joy  at  the  noise 
was  there  within  when  the  damsel  did  but     ofthepUgrims 
drop  that  word  out  of  her  mouth  ! 

So  they  came  with  haste  to  the  Porter,  for  Christiana 
stood  still  at  the  door.     Then  some  of  the  most  graye 
said  unto  her,  Come  in,  Christiana,  come  in,  thou  wife  of 
that  good  man  ;  come  in,  thou  blessed  woman,  come  in, 
with  all  that  are  with  thee.      So  she  went  in,  and  they 
followed   her   that  were   her   children   and   companions. 
Now  when  they  were  gone  in,  they  were  had  into  a  very 
large  room,  where  they  were  bidden  to  sit  down  :  so  they 
sat  down,  and  the  chief  of  the  house  were  called  to  see 
and  welcome  the  guests.     Then  they  came  in,  and  under- 
standing who  they  were,  did  salute  each 
one  with  a  kiss,   and  said,  Welcome,  ye     ^^^ls 
vessels  of  the  grace  of  God  ;  welcome  to     Jj*J£hj£one 
us,  your  friends. 

Now,  because  it  was  somewhat  late,  and  because  the 
pilgrims  were  weary  with  their  journey,  and  also  made 
faint  with  the  sight  of  the  fight,  and  of  the  terrible  lions, 
therefore  they  desired,  as  soon  as  might  be,  to  prepare  to 
go  to  rest.  Nay,  said  those  of  the  family,  refresh 
yourselves  first  with  a  morsel  of  meat ;  for  they  had 
prepared  for  them  a  lamb,  with  the  accustomed  sauce 
belonging  thereto,  for  the  Porter  had  heard  before  of 
their  coming,  and  had  told  it  to  them  within.  So 
when  they  had  supped,  and  ended  their  prayer  with  a 
psalm,  they  desired  they  might  go  to  rest.  But  let  us, 
said  Christiana,  if  we  may  be  so  bold  as  to  choose,  be 
in  that  chamber  that  was  my  husband's  when  he  was 
here ;  so  they  had  them  up  thither,  and  they  lay  all  in  a 
room.  When  they  were  at  rest,  Christiana  and  Mercy 
entered  into  discourse  about  things  that  were  convenient 

229 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Chr.  Little  did  I  think  once,  when  my  husband 
Christ's  bosom  is  went  on  pilgrimage,  that  I  should  ever 

for  all  pilgrims  a  followed. 

Mer.  And  you  as  little  thought  of  lying  in  his  bed,  and 
in  his  chamber  to  rest,  as  you  do  nowt 

Chr.  And  much  less  did  I  ever  think  of  seeing  his 
face  with  comfort,  and  of  worshipping  the  Lord  the 
King  with  him ;  and  yet  now  I  believe  I  shall. 

Mer.     Hark  !  don't  you  hear  a  noise  ? 
Musi  Chr.     Yes,  'tis,  as  I  believe,  a  noise  of 

music,  for  joy  that  we  are  here. 

Mer.  Wonderful !  Music  in  the  house,  music  in  the 
heart,  and  music  also  in  heaven,  for  joy  that  we  are  here  ! 
Thus  they  talked  a  while,  and  then  betook  themselves  to 
sleep. 

So  in  the  morning  when  they  were  awake,  Christiana 
Mercy  did  laugh  said  to  Mercy,  What  was  the  matter  that 

in  her  sleep  you  djd   jaugh   jn    your  sjeep  to_night  ?      I 

suppose  you  were  in  a  dream. 

Mer.  So  I  was,  and  a  sweet  dream  it  was  ;  but  are  you 
sure  I  laughed  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  you  laughed  heartily  5  but  prithee,  Mercy, 
tell  me  thy  dream. 

Mer.  I  was  a  dreamed  that  I  sat  all  alone  in  a  solitary 
..  ,  .  place,  and  was  bemoaning  of  the  hardness 

Mercy  s  dream  •*—  .  __          •   •      •  i 

of  my  heart.  Now  I  had  not  sat  there 
long,  but  methought  many  were  gathered  about  me  to 
see  me,  and  to  hear  what  it  was  that  I  said.  So  they 
hearkened,  and  I  went  on  bemoaning  the  hardness  of  my 
heart.  At  this  some  of  them  laughed  at  me,  some  called 
me  fool,  and  some  began  to  thrust  me  about.  With  that, 
What  her  dream  methought  I  looked  up  and  saw  one  com- 
was  ing  with  wings  towards  me.  So  he  came 

directly  to  me,  and  said,  Mercy,  what  aileth  thee  ?  Now 
when  he  had  heard  me  make  my  complaint,  he  said,  Peace 
be  to  thee ;  he  also  wiped  mine  eyes  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  clad  me  in  silver  and  gold.  He  put 
a  chain  about  my  neck,  and  ear-rings  in  my  ears,  and  a 


MERCY'S  DREAM 

beautiful  crown  upon  my  head.  Then  he  took  me  by  the 
hand,  and  said,  Mercy,  come  after  me.  So  he  went  up, 
and  I  followed  till  we  came  at  a  golden  gate.  Then  he 
knocked ;  and  when  they  within  had  opened,  the  man 
went  in,  and  I  followed  him  up  to  a  throne,  upon  which 
One  sat ;  and  He  said  to  me,  Welcome,  daughter.  The 
place  looked  bright  and  twinkling,  like  the  stars,  or  rather 
like  the  sun,  and  I  thought  that  I  saw  your  husband  there : 
so  I  awoke  from  my  dream.  But  did  I  laugh  ? 

Chr.  Laugh  !  ay,  and  well  you  might  to  see  yourself 
so  well.  For  you  must  give  me  leave  to  tell  you  that  I 
believe  it  was  a  good  dream  j  and  that  as  you  have  begun 
to  find  the  first  part  true,  so  you  shall  find  the  second  at 
last.  God  speaks  once,  yea  twice,  yet  man  perceiveth 
it  not ;  in  a  dream,  in  a  vision  of  the  night,  when  deep 
sleep  falleth  upon  men,  in  slumberings  upon  the  bed. 
We  need  not,  when  a-bed,  lie  awake  to  talk  with  God ; 
He  can  visit  us  while  we  sleep,  and  cause  us  then  to 
hear  His  voice.  Our  heart  ofttimes  wakes  when  we 
sleep,  and  God  can  speak  to  that,  either  by  words,  by 
proverbs,  by  signs  and  similitudes,  as  well  as  if  one 
was  awake. 

Men     Well,  I  am  glad  of  my  dream  ;  for  I  hope  ere 
long  to  see  it  fulfilled,  to  the  making  of  me     Mercy  glad  of 
laugh  again.  her  dream 

Chr.  I  think  it  is  now  time  to  rise,  and  to  know  what 
we  must  do. 

Mer.  Pray,  if  they  invite  us  to  stay  a  while,  let  us 
willingly  accept  of  the  proffer.  I  am  the  more  willing  to 
stay  a  while  here,  to  grow  better  acquainted  with  these 
maids :  methinks  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity  have  very 
comely  and  sober  countenances. 

Chr.     We  shall  see  what  they  will  do. 

So  when  they  were  up  and  ready,  they  came  down,  and 
they  asked  one  another  of  their  rest,  and  if  it  was  com- 
fortable or  not. 

Mer.  Very  good,  said  Mercy  :  it  was  one  of  the  best 
night's  lodging  that  ever  I  had  in  my  life. 

231 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Then  said  Prudence  and  Piety,  If  you  will  be  persuaded 
to  stay  here  a  while,  you  shall  have  what  the  house  will 
afford. 

Char.     Ay,  and    that  with    a    very  good  will,  said 

They  stay  here         Charity.     So  they  consented,  and  stayed 

sometime  there    about    a    month,    or    above,    and 

became  very   profitable   one   to   another.      And   because 

Prudence  would  see  how  Christiana  had  brought  up  her 

children,  she  asked  leave  of  her  to  cate- 

to™a£w£eaS.     chise  them.    So  she  gave  her  free  consent. 

tiana's  chadren         Then  she  began  at  the  youngest,  whose 

name  was  James. 

James  catechised  Pru^  A"d  she  said  Come  James, 
canst  thou  tell  me  who  made  thee  ? 

James.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy.  And  canst  thou  tell  who  saves 
thee? 

James.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy  still.  But  how  doth  God  the  Father 
save  thee  ? 

James.     By  His  grace. 

Prud.     How  doth  God  the  Son  save  thee  ? 

James.  By  His  righteousness,  death  and  blood,  and 
life. 

Prud.     And  how  doth  God  the  Holy  Ghost  save  thee  ? 

James.  By  His  illumination,  by  His  renovation,  and 
by  His  preservation. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Christiana,  You  are  to  be  com- 
mended for  thus  bringing  up  your  children.  I  suppose  I 
need  not  ask  the  rest  these  questions,  since  the  youngest 
of  them  can  answer  them  so  well.  I  will  therefore  now 
apply  myself  to  the  youngest  next. 

Prud.  Then  she  said,  Come,  Joseph  (for  his  name 
Joseph  catechised  was  Joseph),  will  you  let  me  catechise 
you  ? 

Joseph.     With  all  my  heart. 


THE  CHILDREN  CATECHISED 

Prud.     What  is  man  ? 

Joseph.  A  reasonable  creature,  so  made  by  God,  as 
my  brother  said. 

Prud.     What  is  supposed  by  this  word,  saved  ? 

Joseph.  That  man,  by  sin,  has  brought  himself  into 
a  state  of  captivity  and  misery. 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  his  being  saved  by  the 
Trinity  ? 

Joseph.  That  sin  is  so  great  and  mighty  a  tyrant, 
that  none  can  pull  us  out  of  its  clutches  but  God  ;  and 
that  God  is  so  good  and  loving  to  man,  as  to  pull  him 
indeed  out  of  this  miserable  state. 

Prud.     What  is  God's  design  in  saving  of  poor  men  ? 

Joseph.  The  glorifying  of  His  name,  of  His  grace  and 
justice,  etc.,  and  the  everlasting  happiness  of  His  creature. 

Prud.     Who  are  they  that  must  be  saved  ? 

Joseph.     Those  that  accept  of  His  salvation. 

Prud.  Good  boy,  Joseph  ;  thy  mother  hath  taught  thee 
well,  and  thou  hast  hearkened  unto  what  she  has  said  unto 
thee. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Samuel,  who  was  the  eldest 
but  one: 

Prud.  Come,  Samuel,  are  you  willing  Samuei catechised 
that  1  should  catechise  you  also  ? 

Sam.     Yes,  forsooth,  if  you  please. 

Prud.     What  is  heaven  ? 

Sam.  A  place  and  state  most  blessed,  because  God 
dwelleth  there. 

Prud.     What  is  hell  ? 

Sam.  A  place  and  state  most  woeful,  because  it  is  the 
dwelling-place  of  sin,  the  devil,  and  death. 

Prud.     Why  wouldest  thou  go  to  heaven  ? 

Sam.  That  I  may  see  God,  and  serve  Him  without 
weariness ;  that  I  may  see  Christ,  and  love  Him  ever- 
lastingly ;  that  I  may  have  that  fulness  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
in  me,  which  I  can  by  no  means  here  enjoy. 

Prud.  A  very  good  boy  also,  and  one  that  has  learned 
well. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Then  she  addressed  herself  to  the  eldest,  whose  name 
Matthew  was  Matthew ;  and  she  said  to  him,  Come, 

catechised  Matthew,  shall  I  also  catechise  you  ? 

Matt.     With  a  very  good  will. 

Prud.  I  ask  then,  if  there  was  ever  any  thing  that  had 
a  being  antecedent  to  or  before  God  ? 

Matt.  No,  for  God  is  eternal ;  nor  is  there  any  thing, 
excepting  Himself,  that  had  a  being,  until  the  beginning  of 
the  first  day.  For  in  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and 
earth,  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  them  is. 

Prud.     What  do  you  think  of  the  Bible  ? 

Matt.     It  is  the  holy  word  of  God. 

Prud.  Is  there  nothing  written  therein  but  what  you 
understand  ? 

Matt.     Yes,  a  great  deal. 

Prud.  What  do  you  do  when  you  meet  with  such 
places  therein  that  you  do  not  understand  ? 

Matt.  I  think  God  is  wiser  than  I.  I  pray  also  that 
He  will  please  to  let  me  know  all  therein  that  He  knows 
will  be  for  my  good. 

Prud.  How  believe  you  as  touching  the  resurrection 
of  the  dead  ? 

Matt.  I  believe  they  shall  rise  the  same  that  was  buried ; 
the  same  in  nature,  though  not  in  corruption.  And  I 
believe  this  upon  a  double  account :  first,  because  God  has 
promised  it ;  secondly,  because  He  is  able  to  perform  it. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  the  boys,  You  must  still  hearken 

to  your  mother;   for  she  can  learn  you 

SnupJnth'e        more.     You  must  also  diligently  give  ear 

5utCK hismg  of          to  what  good  talk  you  shall  hear  from 

the  boys  ,  -0     _  J  .         . 

others ;  for  for  your  sakes  do  they  speak 
good  things.  Observe  also,  and  that  with  carefulness, 
what  the  heavens  and  the  earth  do  teach  you  ;  but  especially 
be  much  in  the  meditation  of  that  book  that  was  the 
cause  of  your  father's  becoming  a  pilgrim.  I,  for  my  part, 
my  children,  will  teach  you  what  I  can  while  you  are  here, 
and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  ask  me  questions  that  tend  to 
godly  edifying. 

234 


MR  BRISK  AND  MERCY 

Now  by  that  these  pilgrims  had  been  at  this  place  a 
week,  Mercy  had  a  visitor  that  pretended  some  good  will 
unto  her,  and  his  name  was  Mr  Brisk;  a     Mercy  has  a 
man  of  some  breeding,  and  that  pretended     sweetheart 
to  religion,  but  a  man  that  stuck  very  close  to  the  world. 
So  he  came  once,  or  twice,  or  more,  to  Mercy,  and  offered 
love  unto  her.     Now  Mercy  was  of  a  fair  countenance,  and 
therefore  the  more  alluring. 

Her  mind  also  was  to  be  always  busying  of  herself  in 
doing ;   for  when  she  had  nothing  to  do 
for  herself,  she  would  be  making  of  hose 
and  garments  for  others,  and  would  bestow  them  upon 
them  that  had  need.     And  Mr  Brisk,  not  knowing  where 
or  how  she  disposed  of  what  she  made,  seemed  to  be 
greatly  taken,  for  that  he  found  her  never  idle.    I  warrant 
her  a  good  housewife,  quoth  he  to  himself. 

Mercy  then  revealed  the  business  to  the  maidens  that 
were  of  the  house,  and  inquired  of  them     Mercy  inquires 
concerning  him,  for   they  did  know  him     of  the  maids  con- 
better  than  she.     So  they  told  her,  that  he 
was  a  very  busy  young  man,  and  one  that  pretended  to 
religion,  but  was,  as  they  feared,  a  stranger  to  the  power 
of  that  which  was  good. 

Nay  then,  said  Mercy,  I  will  look  no  more  on  him  ;  for 
I  purpose  never  to  have  a  clog  to  my  soul. 

Prudence  then  replied,  that  there  needed  no  great 
matter  of  discouragement  to  be  given  to  him ;  her  con- 
tinuing so  as  she  had  begun  to  do  for  the  poor  would 
quickly  cool  his  courage. 

So  the  next  time  he  comes  he  finds  her  at  her  old  work, 
amaking  of  things  for  the  poor.    Then  said     Talk  betwixt 
he,  What !  always  at  it  ?     Yes,  said  she,     Mercy  and  Mr 
either   for  myself  or   for   others.      And 
what   canst   thou    earn   a  day  ?    quoth   he.     I    do  these 
things,    said   she,    that   I   may  be   rich  in   good  works, 
laying  up  in  store  a  good  foundation  against   the  time 
to  come,  that  I   may  lay  hold   on   eternal   life.     Why, 
prithee,  what  dost  thou  with  them  ?  said  he.     Clothe  the 

2  35 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

naked,  said  she.  With  that  his  countenance  fell.  So  he 
He  forsakes  her  forbore  to  come  at  her  again.  And  when 
and  wh7  he  was  asked  the  reason  why,  he  said,  that 

Mercy  was  a  pretty  lass,  but  troubled  with  ill  conditions. 

When  he  had  left  her,  Prudence  said,  Did  I  not  tell 

thee  that  Mr  Brisk  would  soon  forsake  thee  ?  yea,  he  will 

raise  up  an  ill  report  of  thee ;  for,  not- 

practiceof mercy      withstanding  his  pretence  to  religion,  and 

SScy  faThe1"          his  seeming  love  to  Mercy,  yet  Mercy  and 

name  of  mercy  is       he  are  of  tempers  so  different  that  I  believe 

they  will  never  come  together. 

Men  I  might  a  had  husbands  afore  now,  though  I 
spake  not  of  it  to  any ;  but  they  were  such  as  did  not 
like  my  conditions,  though  never  did  any  of  them  find 
fault  with  my  person.  So  they  and  I  could  not  agree. 

Prud.  Mercy  in  our  days  is  little  set  by  any  further 
than  as  to  its  name :  the  practice,  which  is  set  forth  by 
thy  conditions,  there  are  but  few  that  can  abide. 

Men  Well,  said  Mercy,  if  nobody  will  have  me,  I 
Mercy's  resoiu-  will  die  a  maid,  or  my  conditions  shall 
11011  be  to  me  as  a  husband;  for  I  cannot 

change  my  nature ;  and  to  have  one  that  lies  cross  to 
me  in  this,  that  I  purpose  never  to  admit  of  as  long  as  I 
live.  I  had  a  sister  named  Bountiful,  that 

How  Mercy  s  .     t  -     ,  ,        .         , 

sister  was  served  was  married  to  one  of  these  churls;  but 
by  h<  he  and  she  could  never  agree  ;  but  because 

my  sister  was  resolved  to  do  as  she  had  begun,  that  is, 
to  show  kindness  to  the  poor,  therefore  her  husband  first 
cried  her  down  at  the  cross,  and  then  turned  her  out  of 
his  doors. 

Prud.     And  yet  he  was  a  professor,  I  warrant  you  ? 

Mer.  Yes,  such  a  one  as  he  was,  and  of  such  as  he  the 
world  is  now  full :  but  I  am  for  none  of  them  all. 

Now  Matthew,  the  eldest  son  of  Christiana,  fell  sick, 
Matthew  fails  and  his  sickness  was  sore  upon  him,  for 

sick  he  was  much  pained  in  his  bowels,  so  that 

he  was  with  it  at  times,  pulled  as  'twere  both  ends  together. 
There  dwelt  also  not  far  from  thence  one  Mr  Skill,  ap 


MR   BRISK  AND  MERCI 

So  the  next  time  he  cornea  he  finds  her  at  her  old  work,  amakiny 
of  things  for  the  poor.     Then  said  Tie.  "  What,  always  at  iff" 


MATTHEW  FALLS  SICK 

ancient  and  well-approved  physician.    So  Christiana  desired 
it,  and  they  sent  for  him,  and  he  came.     When  he  was 
entered  the  room,  and  had  a  little  observed  the  boy,  he 
concluded  that  he  was  sick  of  the  gripes.     Gripes  of  con- 
Then  he  said  to  his  mother,  What  diet  has     science 
Matthew  of  late  fed  upon  ?    Diet !  said  Christiana,  nothing 
but  that  which  is  wholesome.     The  physician  answered, 
This  boy  has  been  tampering  with  some-     The  physician's 
thing  which  lies  in  his  maw  undigested,     judgment 
and  that  will  not  away  without  means.     And  I  tell  you 
he  must  be  purged,  or  else  he  will  die. 

Sam.     Then  said  Samuel,  Mother,  what  was  that  which 
my  brother  did  gather  up  and  eat,  so  soon 
as  we  were  come  from  the  gate  that  is  at 
the  head  of  this  way  ?     You  know  that     brofhefdid  eat 
there  was  an  orchard  on  the  left  hand, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,   and  some  of  the  trees 
hung  over  the  wall,  and  my  brother  did  pluck  and  did 
eat. 

Chr.  True,  my  child,  said  Christiana,  he  did  take 
thereof  and  did  eat :  naughty  boy  as  he  was,  I  did  chide 
him,  and  yet  he  would  eat  thereof. 

Skill.  I  knew  he  had  eaten  something  that  was  not 
wholesome  food ;  and  that  food,  to  wit,  that  fruit,  is  even 
the  most  hurtful  of  all.  It  is  the  fruit  of  Beelzebub's 
orchard.  I  do  marvel  that  none  did  warn  you  of  it ;  many 
have  died  thereof. 

Chr.  Then  Christiana  began  to  cry ;  and  she  said,  Oh, 
naughty  boy !  and  oh,  careless  mother !  what  shall  I  do 
for  my  son  ? 

Skill.  Come,  do  not  be  too  much  dejected ;  the  boy 
may  do  well  again,  but  he  must  purge  and  vomit. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  try  the  utmost  of  your  skill  with  him, 
whatever  it  costs. 

Skill.     Nay,  I  hope  I  shall  be  reasonable.     So  he  made 
him  a  purge,  but  it  was  too  weak ;  'twas 
said  it  was  made  of  the  blood  of  a  goat,  the 
ashes  of  a  heifer,  and  with  some  of  the  juice  of  hyssop. 

237 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

"When  Mr  Skill  had  seen  that  that  purge  was  too  weak, 
he  made  him  one  to  the  purpose.  'Twas  made  ex  came 
The  Latin  I  &  sanguine  Christi,  (you  know  physicians 

borrow  give  strange  medicines  to  their  patients); 

and  it  was  made  up  into  pills,  with  a  promise  or  two, 
and  a  proportionable  quantity  of  salt.  Now  he  was  to 
take  them  three  at  a  time,  fasting,  in  half  a  quarter  of 
a  pint  of  the  tears  of  repentance. 

When  this  potion  was  prepared,  and  brought  to  the 
The  boy  loth  to  boy,  he  was  loth  to  take  it,  though  torn 
take  the  physic  wjth  the  gripes  as  if  he  should  be  pulled 
in  pieces.  Come,  come,  said  the  physician,  you  must  take 
it.  It  goes  against  my  stomach,  said  the  boy.  I  must 
have  you  take  it,  said  his  mother.  I  shall  vomit  it  up 
again,  said  the  boy.  Pray,  sir,  said  Christiana  to  Mr 
Skill,  how  does  it  taste?  It  has  no  ill  taste,  said  the 
doctor  ;  and  with  that  she  touched  one  of 

The  mother  .          -11         •  i       i         •         r  i  r\* 

tastes  it  and  per-  the  pills  with  the  tip  of  her  tongue.  Oh, 
Matthew,  said  she,  this  potion  is  sweeter 
than  honey.  If  thou  lovest  thy  mother,  if  thou  lovest 
thy  brothers,  if  thou  lovest  Mercy,  if  thou  lovest  thy  life, 
take  it.  So  with  much  ado,  after  a  short  prayer  for  the 
blessing  of  God  upon  it,  he  took  it,  and  it  wrought  kindly 
with  him.  It  caused  him  to  purge ;  it  caused  him  to 
sleep  and  rest  quietly;  it  put  him  into  a  fine  heat  and 
breathing  sweat,  and  did  quite  rid  him  of  his  gripes. 

A  word  of  God  in         S°    in    little    timC    he    gOt    UP»    and    W*lked 

the  hand  of  his          about  with   a  staff,  and  would  go  from 
room  to  room,  and   talk  with  Prudence, 
Piety,  and  Charity,   of  his  distemper,  and  how  he  was 
healed. 

So  when  the  boy  was  healed,  Christiana  asked  Mr 
Skill,  saying,  Sir,  what  will  content  you  for  your  pains 
and  care  to  and  of  my  child  ?  And  he  said,  You  must 
pay  the  Master  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  according 
to  rules  made  in  that  case  and  provided. 

Chr.  But,  sir,  said  she,  what  is  this  pill  good  for 
else  ? 

238 


PRUDENCE  AND  MATTHEW 

Skill.     It  is  a  universal  pill ;  'tis  good  against  all  the 
diseases  that  pilgrims  are  incident  to;  and     This  pill  a  uni- 
when   it   is  well   prepared,  it  will   keep     versafremedy 
good  time  out  of  mind. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  make  me  up  twelve  boxes  of  them  ;  for 
if  I  can  get  these,  I  will  never  take  other  physic. 

Skill.     These   pills  are  good  to  prevent  diseases,  as 
well  as  to  cure  when  one  is  sick.      Yea,  I  dare  say  it, 
and  stand  to  it,  that  if  a  man  will  but   use  this  physic 
as  he  should,  it  will  make  him  live  for  ever.     But  good 
Christiana,  thou  must  give  these  pills  no     inagiassofthe 
other  way  but  as  I  have  prescribed;  for     tears  of  repent- 
if  you  do,  they  will  do  no  good.     So  he 
gave  unto  Christiana  physic  for  herself,  and  her  boys,  and 
for  Mercy :  and  bid  Matthew  take  heed  how  he  ate  any 
more  green  plums,  and  kissed  them,  and  went  his  way. 

It  was  told  you  before,  that  Prudence  bid  the  boys,  that 
if  at  any  time  they  would,  they  should  ask  her  some  ques- 
tions that  might  be  profitable,  and  she  would  say  something 
to  them. 

Matt.  Then  Matthew,  who  had  been  sick,  asked  her, 
why  for  the  most  part  physic  should  be 

,  .    J  r    J  Of  physic 

bitter  to  our  palates. 

Prud.  To  show  how  unwelcome  the  word  of  God  and 
the  effects  thereof  are  to  a  carnal  heart. 

Matt.     Why  does   physic,   if  it    does     of  the  effects  of 
good,  purge,  and  cause  that  we  vomit?  physic 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  word,  when  it  works  effec- 
tually, cleanseth  the  heart  and  mind.  For  look,  what  the 
one  doth  to  the  body,  the  other  doth  to  the  soul. 

Matt.     What  should  we  learn  by  seeing  the  flame  of 
our  fire  go  upwards,  and  by  seeing  the     of  fire,  and  of  the 
beams  and  sweet   influences   of  the   sun     sun 
strike  downwards  ? 

Prud.  By  the  going  up  of  the  fire  we  are  taught  to 
ascend  to  heaven  by  fervent  and  hot  desires.  And  by  the 
sun  sending  his  heat,  beams,  and  sweet  influences  down- 
wards, we  are  taught  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world 

239 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

though  high,  reaches  down  with  His  grace  and  love  to  us 
below. 

Of  the  clouds  Matt.     Where   have  the  clouds  their 

water  ? 

Prud.     Out  of  the  sea. 

Matt.     What  may  we  learn  from  that  ? 

Prud.  That  ministers  should  fetch  their  doctrine  from 
God. 

Matt.  Why  do  they  empty  themselves  upon  the 
earth  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  ministers  should  give  out  what 
they  know  of  God  to  the  world. 

Of  the  rainbow  Matt.     Why  is  the  rainbow  caused  by 

the  sun  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  covenant  of  God's  grace  is 
confirmed  to  us  in  Christ. 

Matt.     Why  do  the  springs  come  from 

Of  the  springs  ,  9.    « 

the  sea  to  us  through  the  earth  r 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  grace  of  God  comes  to  us 
through  the  body  of  Christ. 

Matt.  Why  do  some  of  the  springs  rise  out  of  the 
tops  of  high  hills  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  spirit  of  grace  shall  spring  up 
in  some  that  are  great  and  mighty,  as  well  as  in  many  that 
are  poor  and  low. 

Matt.     Why  doth  the  fire  fasten  upon 

Of  the  candle  ,_  ,,          .   /  , 

the  candle-wick  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  unless  grace  doth  kindle  upon  the 
heart,  there  will  be  no  true  light  of  life  in  us. 

Matt.  Why  are  the  wick,  and  tallow  and  all,  spent  to 
maintain  the  light  of  the  candle  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  body  and  soul,  and  all  should  be 
at  the  service  of,  and  spend  themselves  to  maintain  in  good 
condition,  that  grace  of  God  that  is  in  us. 

Matt.  Why  doth  the  pelican  pierce  her 

Of  the  pelican  /.    ,         ,  ...  C 

own  breast  with  her  bill  r 

Prud.  To  nourish  her  young  ones  with  her  blood, 
and  thereby  to  show  that  Christ  the  blessed  so  loveth 

240 


THE  SIGHTS  SHOWN 

His  young  (His  people),  as  to  save  them  from  death  by 
His  blood. 

Matt.     What  may  one  learn  by  hearing 
the  cock  to  crow?  Ofthecock 

Prud.  Learn  to  remember  Peter's  sin,  and  Peter's  re- 
pentance. The  cock's  crowing  shows  also,  that  day  is 
coming  on  :  let,  then,  the  crowing  of  the  cock  put  thee  in 
mind  of  that  last  and  terrible  day  of  judgment. 

Now  about  this  time  their  month  was  out ;  wherefore 
they  signified  to  those  of  the  house,  that  'twas  convenient 
for  them  to  up  and  be  going.  Then  said  Joseph  to  his 
mother,  It  is  convenient  that  you  forget  not  to  send  to  the 
house  of  Mr  Interpreter,  to  pray  him  to  grant  that  Mr 
Great-heart  should  be  sent  unto  us,  that  The  weak  ma 
he  may  be  our  conductor  the  rest  of  our  sometimes  cSfthe 
way.  Good  boy,  said  she,  I  had  almost 
forgot.  So  she  drew  up  a  petition,  and  prayed  Mr  Watch- 
ful the  porter  to  send  it  by  some  fit  man  to  her  good  friend 
Mr  Interpreter ;  who,  when  it  was  come,  and  he  had  seen 
the  contents  of  the  petition,  said  to  the  messenger,  Go,  tell 
them  that  I  will  send  him. 

When  the  family  where  Christiana  was  saw  that  they  had 
a  purpose  to  go  forward,  they  called  the  They  provide  to  be 
whole  house  together,  to  give  thanks  to  gone  on  their  way 
their  King  for  sending  of  them  such  profitable  guests 
as  these.  Which  done,  they  said  to  Christiana,  And  shall 
we  not  show  thee  something,  according  as  our  custom  is 
to  do  to  pilgrims,  on  which  thou  mayest  meditate  when 
thou  art  upon  the  way  ?  So  they  took  Christiana,  her 
children,  and  Mercy  into  the  closet,  and  £v 
showed  them  one  of  the  apples  that  Eve 
did  eat  of,  and  that  she  also  did  give  to  her  husband,  and 
that  for  the  eating  of  which  they  both  were  turned 
out  of  paradise,  and  asked  her  what  she  thought  that 
was.  Then  Christiana  said,  'Tis  food  or  poison,  I 
know  not  which.  So  they  opened  the  Asiffhtofsinis 
matter  to  her,  and  she  held  up  her  hands 
and  wondered. 

241 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Then  they  had  her  to  a  place  and  showed  her  Jacob's 

ladder.  Now  at  that  time  there  were  some 
Jacob's  ladder  ,.  0  ~, 

angels  ascending  upon  it.  So  Christiana 
looked  and  looked  to  see  the  angels  go  up  ;  and  so 
did  the  rest  of  the  company.  Then  they  were  going 
into  another  place,  to  show  them  something  else ;  but 
James  said  to  his  mother,  Pray  bid  them  stay  here  a  little 
A  sight  of  Christ  is  longer,  for  this  is  a  curious  sight.  So  they 
takin*  turned  again,  and  stood  feeding  their  eyes 

with  this  so  pleasing  a  prospect. 

After  this  they  had  them  into  a  place  where  did  hang  up 

a  golden  anchor.     So  they  bid  Christiana 

take  it  down ;  for,  said  they,  You  shall  have 

it  with  you,  for  'tis  of  absolute  necessity  that  you  should, 

that  you  may  lay  hold  of  that  within  the  veil,  and  stand 

stedfast  in  case  you  should  meet  with  turbulent  weather ; 

so  they  were  glad  thereof. 

Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  the  mount  upon 
Of  Abraham's  which  Abraham  our  father  offered  up  Isaac 

offering  up  Isaac  ^jg  son>  ancj  showed  them  the  altar,  the 
wood,  the  fire,  and  the  knife,  for  they  remain  to  be  seen 
to  this  very  day.  When  they  had  seen  it,  they  held  up 
their  hands,  and  blessed  themselves,  and  said,  Oh  !  what  a 
man  for  love  to  his  Master,  and  for  denial  to  himself, 
was  Abraham ! 

After  they  had  showed  them  all  these  things,  Prudence 
Prudence's  to°k   them   into  the  dining-room,   where 

virginals  stood  a  pair  of  excellent  virginals;1  so 

she  played  upon  them,  and  turned  what  she  had  showed 
them  into  this  excellent  song,  saying, 

Eve's  apple  we  have  showed  you ; 

Of  that  be  you  aware: 
You  have  seen  Jacob's  ladder  too, 

Upon  which  angels  are. 
An  anchor  you  received  have; 

But  let  not  these  suffice, 
Until  with  Abra'm  you  have  gave 

Your  best  a  sacrifice. 

1  A  musical  instrument  for  young  women. 


THE  PILGRIMS  GO  ON 

Now  about  this  time  one  knocked  at  the  door.     So  the 
Porter   opened,    and    behold,    Mr   Great-     Mr  Great-heart 
heart  was  there:  but  when  he  was  come     comes  again 
in,  what  joy  was  there !     For  it  came  now  fresh  again 
into  their  minds  how  but  a  while  ago  he  had   slain  old 
Grim  Bloody-man,  the  giant,  and  had  delivered  them  from 
the  lions. 

Then  said  Mr  Great-heart  to  Christiana  and  to  Mercy, 
My  Lord  has  sent  each  of  you  a  bottle  of 

.11  11  i  He  brings  a  token 

wine,  and  also  some  parched  corn,  together     from  his  Lord  with 

with  a  couple  of  pomegranates  :  He  has  also 

sent  the  boys  some  figs  and  raisins,  to  refresh  you  in  your  way. 

Then  they  addressed  themselves  to  their  journey ;  and 
Prudence  and  Piety  went  along  with  them.  When  they 
came  at  the  gate,  Christiana  asked  the  Porter  if  any  of  late 
went  by.  He  said,  No ;  only  one  some  time  since,  who 
also  told  me,  that  of  late  there  had  been 
a  great  robbery  committed  on  the  King's 
highway  as  you  go.  But,  he  saith,  the  thieves  are  taken, 
and  will  shortly  be  tried  for  their  lives.  Then  Christiana 
and  Mercy  were  afraid,  but  Matthew  said,  Mother,  fear 
nothing  as  long  as  Mr  Great-heart  is  to  go  with  us,  and 
to  be  our  conductor. 

Then  said  Christiana  to  the  Porter,  Sir,  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  for  all  the  kindnesses  that 

/  .  ,  .  ,  Christiana  takes 

you  have  showed  me  since  I  came  hither;     her  leave  of  the 
and  also  for  that  you  have  been  so  loving     porter 
and  kind  to  my  children.     I  know  not  how  to  gratify  your 
kindness ;  wherefore,  pray,  as  a  token  of  my  respects  to 
you,  accept  of  this  small  mite.     So  she  put  a  gold  angel x 
in  his  hand,  and  he  made  her  low  obeisance,  and  said, 
Let  thy  garments  be  always  white;   and     The  Porter's 
let    thy    head   want    no    ointment.      Let     blessing 
Mercy  live  and  not  die,  and  let  not  her  works  be  few. 
And  to  the  boys  he  said,  Do   you   fly   youthful   lusts, 

1  A  gold  angel  was  a  coin  of  the  value  of  ten  shillings,  and  according 
to  the  comparative  value  of  money  in  Bunyan's  time,  equal  at  least  to  a 
guinea  at  the  present  time. 

243 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  follow  after  godliness  with  them  that  are  grave 
and  wise,  so  shall  you  put  gladness  into  your  mother's 
heart,  and  obtain  praise  of  all  that  are  sober-minded.  So 
they  thanked  the  Porter,  and  departed. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  forward  until 
they  were  come  to  the  brow  of  the  hill ;  where  Piety 
bethinking  herself,  cried  out,  Alas !  I  have  forgot  what 
I  intended  to  bestow  upon  Christiana  and  her  companions  : 
I  will  go  back  and  fetch  it.  So  she  ran  and  fetched  it. 
While  she  was  gone,  Christiana  thought  she  heard  in  a 
grove  a  little  way  off  on  the  right  hand,  a  most  curious 
melodious  note,  with  words  much  like  these : 

Through  all  my  life  Thy  favour  is 

So  frankly  showed  to  me, 
That  in  Thy  house  for  evermore 

My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 

And  listening  still,  she  thought  she  heard  another  answer 
it,  saying, 

For  why  ?     The  Lord  our  God  is  good  j 

His  mercy  is  for  ever  sure; 
His  truth  at  all  times  firmly  stood, 

And  shall  from  age  to  age  endure. 

So  Christiana  asked  Prudence  what  'twas  that  made 
those  curious  notes.  They  are,  said  she,  our  country 
birds:  they  sing  these  notes  but  seldom,  except  it  be 
at  the  spring,  when  the  flowers  appear,  and  the  sun 
shines  warm,  and  then  you  may  hear  them  all  day  long. 
I  often,  said  she,  go  out  to  hear  them;  we  also  oft- 
times  keep  them  tame  in  our  house.  They  are  very 
fine  company  for  us  when  we  are  melancholy :  also  they 
make  the  woods,  and  groves,  and  solitary  places  desirous 
to  be  in. 

By  this  time  Piety  was  come  again.     So  she  said   to 

Christiana,  Look  here,  I  have  brought  thee 

SmJthfng°oT          a  scheme  of  all  those  things  that  thou  hast 

them  at  parting  seen  at  our  JlousGj  upOQ  which  thou  HiayCSt 

look  when  thou  findest  thyself  forgetful,  and  call  those 
things  again  to  remembrance  for  thy  edification  and  comfort. 

244 


VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION 

Now  they  began  to  go  down  the  hill  into  the  Valley 
of  Humiliation.  It  was  a  steep  hill,  and  the  way  was 
slippery ;  but  they  were  very  careful  $  so  they  got  down 
pretty  well.  When  they  were  down  in  the  valley,  Piety 
said  to  Christiana,  This  is  the  place  where  Christian  your 
husband  met  with  the  foul  fiend  Apollyon,  and  where  they 
had  that  dreadful  fight  that  they  had  :  I  know  you  cannot  but 
have  heard  thereof.  But  be  of  good  courage ;  as  long  as 
you  have  here  Mr  Great-heart  to  be  your  guide  and 
conductor,  we  hope  you  will  fare  the  better.  So  when 
these  two  had  committed  the  pilgrims  unto  the  conduct  of 
their  guide,  he  went  forward,  and  they  went  after.  • 

Great.     Then  said  Mr  Great-heart,  We  need  not  be  so 
afraid  of  this  valley,  for  here  is  nothing  to     Mr  Great  heart  at 
hurt  us,  unless  we  procure  it  to  ourselves,     the  Valley  of 
'Tis  true   Christian   did   here  meet  with 
Apollyon,  with  whom  he  also  had  a  sore  combat :  but  that 
fray  was  the  fruit  of  those  slips  that  he  got  in  his  going 
down  the  hill ;  for  they  that  get  slips  there,  must  look  for 
combats  here.     And  hence  it  is,  that  this  valley  has  got 
so  hard  a  name.     For  the  common  people,  when  they  hear 
that  some  frightful  thing  has  befallen  such  a  one  in  such 
a  place,  are  of  an  opinion  that  that  place  is  haunted  with 
some  foul  fiend  or  evil  spirit ;  when,  alas  !  it  is  for  the  fruit 
of  their  doing  that  such  things  do  befall     The  reason  why 
them  there.     This  Valley  of  Humiliation     Christian  was 
is  of  itself  as  fruitful  a  place  as  any  the 
crow  flies   over ;   and  I  am  persuaded,  if  we  could   hit 
upon  it,  we  might  find  somewhere  hereabout  something 
that  might  give  us  an  account  why  Christian  was  so  hardly 
beset  in  this  place. 

Then  James  said  to  his  mother,  Lo,  yonder  stands  a 
pillar,  and  it  looks  as  if  something  was  written  thereon ; 
let  us  go  and  see  what  it  is.     So  they  went,  and  found 
there  written,  Let  Christian's  slips  before     A  piuar  with  ^ 
he  came  hither,  and  the  battles  that  he  met     inscription  on  it 
with  in  this  place,  be  a  warning  to  those  that  come  after. 
Lo,  said  their  guide,  did  not  I  tell  you  that  there  was  some- 

245 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

thing  hereabouts  that  would  give  intimation  of  the  reason 
why  Christian  was  so  hard  beset  in  this  place?  Then 
turning  himself  to  Christiana,  he  said,  No  disparagement 
to  Christian  more  than  to  many  others  whose  hap  and  lot 
his  was.  For  'tis  easier  going  up  than  down  this  hill,  and 
that  can  be  said  but  of  few  hills  in  all  these  parts  of  the 
world.  But  we  will  leave  the  good  man  j  he  is  at  rest ; 
he  also  had  a  brave  victory  over  his  enemy.  Let  Him 
grant  that  dwelleth  above  that  we  fare  no  worse,  when 
we  come  to  be  tried,  than  he. 

But  we  will  come  again  to  this  Valley  of  Humiliation. 
This  valley  a  It  is  the  best  and  most  fruitful  piece  of 

brave  place  ground  in  all  those  parts.  It  is  fat  ground, 

and,  as  you  see,  consisteth  much  in  meadows  ;  and  if  a  man 
was  to  come  here  in  the  summer-time,  as  we  do  now,  if  he 
knew  not  any  thing  before  thereof,  and  if  he  also  delighted 
himself  in  the  sight  of  his  eyes,  he  might  see  that,  that 
would  be  delightful  to  him.  Behold  how  green  this  valley 
is ;  also  how  beautified  with  lilies.  I  have  also  known 
many  labouring  men  that  have  got  good  estates  in  this 
?Valley  of  Humiliation ;  for  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but 

Men  thrive  in  the  |ives.  more,  more  grace  to  the  humble 
Valley  of  Humiiia-  For  indeed  it  is  a  very  fruitful  soil,  and 
i**00  doth  bring  forth  by  handfuls.  Some  also 

have  wished  that  the  next  way  to  their  Father's  house 
were  here,  that  they  might  be  troubled  no  more  with 
either  hills  or  mountains  to  go  over,  but  the  way  is  the 
way,  and  there's  an  end. 

Now  as  they  were  going  along  and  talking,  they  espied 
a  boy  feeding  his  father's  sheep.  The  boy  was  in  very 
mean  clothes,  but  of  a  very  fresh  and  well-favoured  counte- 
nance ;  and  as  he  sat  by  himself  he  sung.  Hark,  said  Mr 
Great-heart,  to  what  the  shepherd's  boy  saith.  So  they 
hearkened,  and  he  said, 

He  that  is  down  needs  fear  no  fall; 

He  that  is  low,  no  pride: 
He  that  is  humble  ever  shall 

Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 
246 


THE    SHEPHERD    BOY'S    SONG 
And  as  he  sat  by  himself  he  sung. 


SHEPHERD'S  BOY  SINGING 

I  am  content  with  what  I  have, 

Little  be  it  or  much  ; 
And,  Lord,  contentment  still  I  crave, 

Because  Thou  savest  such. 

Fulness  to  such  a  burden  is, 

That  go  on  pilgrimage  ; 
Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss, 

Is  best  from  age  to  age. 

Yhen  said  their  guide,  Do  you  hear  him  ?  I  will  dare 
to  say  that  this  boy  lives  a  merrier  life,  and  wears  more  of 
that  herb  called  heart's  ease  in  his  bosom,  than  he  that  is 
clad  in  silk  and  velvet.  But  we  will  proceed  in  our 
discourse. 

In  this  valley  our  Lord  formerly  had  His  country-house : 
He  loved  much  to  be  here.  He  loved  also  Christ  when  in  th« 
to  walk  these  meadows,  for  He  found  the  flesh  had  His 

,  T»      •  i          i  i     11        country-house 

air  was  pleasant.  Besides,  here  a  man  shall  in  the  valley  of 
be  free  from  the  noise  and  from  the  hurry- 
ings  of  this  life  :  all  states  are  full  of  noise  and  confusion  ; 
only  the  Valley  of  Humiliation  is  that  empty  and  solitary 
place.  Here  a  man  shall  not  be  so  let  and  hindered  in  his 
contemplation  as  in  other  places  he  is  apt  to  be.  This  is  a 
valley  that  nobody  walks  in  but  those  that  love  a  pilgrim's 
life.  And  though  Christian  had  the  hard  hap  to  meet  here 
with  Apollyon,  and  to  enter  with  him  a  brisk  encounter, 
yet  I  must  tell  you,  that  in  former  times  men  have  met  with 
angels  here,  have  found  pearls  here,  and  have  in  this  place 
found  the  words  of  life. 

Did  I  say  our  Lord  had  here  in  former  days  His  country- 
house,  and  that  He  loved  here  to  walk?  I  will  add; — in 
this  place,  and  to  the  people  that  love  and  trace  these 
grounds,  He  has  left  a  yearly  revenue,  to  be  faithfully 
paid  them  at  certain  seasons,  for  their  maintenance  by  the 
way,  and  for  their  further  encouragement  to  go  on  in  their 
pilgrimage. 

Sam.  Now  as  they  went  on,  Samuel  said  to  Mr  Great- 
heart,  Sir,  I  perceive  that  in  this  valley  my  father  and 
Apollyon  had  their  battle  ;  but  whereabout  was  the  fight  ? 
for  I  perceive  this  valley  is  large. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Great.  Your  father  had  "that  battle  with  Apollyon  at  a 
_  .  f  _  place  yonder  before  us,  in  a  narrow  passage, 

Forgetful  Green          I         ,J          Jr,  riV>,  A      i  •     i       i 

just  beyond  Forgetful  Green.  And  indeed 
that  place  is  the  most  dangerous  place  in  all  these  parts.  For 
if  at  any  time  the  pilgrims  meet  with  any  brunt,  it  is  when 
they  forget  what  favours  they  have  received,  and  how  un- 
worthy they  are  of  them.  This  was  the  place  also  where 
others  have  been  hard  put  to  it.  But  more  of  the  place 
when  we  are  come  to  it ;  for  I  persuade  myself,  that  to 
this  day  there  remains  either  some  sign  of  the  battle  or 
some  monument  to  testify  that  such  a  battle  there  was 
fought. 

Men  Then  said  Mercy,  I  think  I  am  as  well  in  this 
Humility  a  sweet  valley  as  I  have  been  anywhere  else  in  all 
*race  our  journey;  the  place,  methinks,  suits 

with  my  spirit.  I  love  to  be  in  such  places,  where  there 
is  no  rattling  with  coaches,  nor  rumbling  with  wheels. 
Methinks,  here  one  may,  without  much  molestation, 
be  thinking  what  he  is,  whence  he  came,  what  he  has 
done,  and  to  what  the  King  has  called  him.  Here  one 
may  think,  and  break  at  heart,  and  melt  in  one's  spirit, 
until  one's  eyes  become  as  the  fishpools  of  Heshbon. 
They  that  go  rightly  through  this  Valley  of  Baca, 
make  it  a  well;  the  rain  that  God  sends  down  from 
heaven  upon  them  that  are  here,  also  filleth  the  pools. 
This  valley  is  that  from  whence  also  the  King  will 
give  to  His  their  vineyards,  and  they  that  go  through 
it  shall  sing,  as  Christian  did  for  all  he  met  with 
Apollyon. 

Great.  'Tis  true,  said  their  guide  ;  I  have  gone  through 
An  experiment  this  valley  many  a  time,  and  never  was 
ofit  better  than  when  here.  I  have  also  been 

a  conduct  to  several  pilgrims,  and  they  have  confessed 
the  same.  To  this  man  will  I  look,  saith  the  King, 
even  to  him  that  is  poor  and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and 
trembleth  at  My  word. 

Now  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  afore- 
mentioned battle  was  fought.  Then  said  the  guide  to 

248 


VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 

Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy,  This  is  the  place ;  on 
this  ground  Christian  stood,  and  up  there 
came  Apollyon  against  him.  And,  look, 
did  not  I  tell  you,  here  is  some  of  your  fiend  did  fight, 
husband's  blood  upon  these  stones  to  this 
day.  Behold,  also,  how  here  and  there  are 
yet  to  be  seen  upon  the  place  some  of  the  shivers  of 
Apollyon's  broken  darts.  See  also  how  they  did  beat  the 
ground  with  their  feet  as  they  fought,  to  make  good  their 
places  against  each  other ;  how  also  with  their  by-blows 
they  did  split  the  very  stones  in  pieces.  Verily,  Christian 
did  here  play  the  man,  and  showed  himself  as  stout  as 
could,  had  he  been  here,  even  Hercules  himself.  When 
Apollyon  was  beat,  he  made  his  retreat  to  the  next  valley, 
that  is  called  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  unto 
which  we  shall  come  anon.  Lo,  yonder  also  stands  a 
monument  on  which  is  engraven  this  A  monument  of 
battle  and  Christian's  victory,  to  his  fame  Christian's  victory 
throughout  all  ages.  So  because  it  stood  just  on  the  way- 
side before  them,  they  stepped  to  it,  and  read  the  writing, 
which  word  for  word  was  this  : 

Hard  by  here  was  a  battle  fought, 

Most  strange,  and  yet  most  true  ; 
Christian  and  Apollyon  sought 

Each  other  to  subdue. 

The  man  so  bravely  played  the  man, 

He  made  the  fiend  to  fly ; 
Of  which  a  monument  I  stand, 

The  same  to  testify. 

When  they  had  passed  by  this  place,  they  came  upon  the 
borders  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  this  valley  was  longer 
than  the  other;  a  place  also  most  strangely  haunted  with  evil 
things,  as  many  are  able  to  testify  :  but  these  women  and 
children  went  the  better  through  it,  because  they  had  day- 
light, and  because  Mr  Great-heart  was  their  conductor. 

When  they  were  entered  upon  this  valley,  they 
thought  that  they  heard  a  groaning  as 

-      P      .  *  &.  Groanmgs  heard 

of    dead    men ;    a    very    great    groaning. 

They  thought  also  they  did  hear  words  of  lamentation, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

spoken  as  of  some  in  extreme  torment.  These  things 
made  the  boys  to  quake  :  the  women  also  looked  pale 
and  wan  •,  but  their  guide  bid  them  be  of  good  comfort. 

So  they  went  on  a  little  further,  and  they  thought  that 
The  ground  tne7  ^e^  tne  ground  begin  to  shake  under 

snakes  them,  as  if  some  hollow  place  was  there : 

they  heard  also  a  kind  of  hissing,  as  of  serpents,  but  no- 
thing as  yet  appeared.  Then  said  the  boys,  Are  we  not  yet 
at  the  end  of  this  doleful  place  ?  But  the  guide  also  bid 
them  be  of  good  courage,  and  look  well  to  their  feet ;  lest 
haply,  said  he,  you  be  taken  in  some  snare. 

Now  James  began  to  be  sick  ;  but  I  think  the  cause 
James  sick  with  thereof  was  fear  :  so  his  mother  gave  him 
fear  some  of  that  glass  of  spirits  that  she  had 

given  her  at  the  Interpreter's  house,  and  three  of  the  pills 
that  Mr  Skill  had  prepared,  and  the  boy  began  to  revive. 
Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  about  the  middle  of 
the  valley ;  and  then  Christiana  said,  Methinks  I  see  some- 
thing yonder  upon  the  road  before  us,  a 

The  fiend  appears          ,  .    °    Jc         , 

thing  or  a  shape  such  as  1  nave  not  seen. 
Then  said  Joseph,  Mother,  what  is  it  ?  An  ugly  thing, 
child ;  an  ugly  thing,  said  she.  But,  mother,  what  is  it 
The  pilgrims  are  like  ?  said  he.  'Tis  like  I  cannot  tell 
afraid  what,  said  she;  and  now,  it  was  but  a  little 

way  off.     Then  said  she,  It  is  nigh. 

Well,  well,  said  Mr  Great-heart,  let  them  that  are  most 
Great-hearten-  afraid  keep  close  to  me.  So  the  fiend 
courages  them  came  on,  and  the  conductor  met  it ;  but 
when  it  was  just  come  to  him,  it  vanished  to  all  their 
sights.  Then  remembered  they  what  had  been  said  some 
time  ago,  Resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you. 

They  went  therefore  on,  as    being  a  little  refreshed. 

But  they  had  not  gone  far  before  Mercy,  looking  behind  her, 

saw,  as  she  thought,  something  most  like  a 

lion,  and  it  came  a  great   padding    pace 

after  ;  and  it  had  a  hollow  voice  of  roaring  ;  and  at  every 

roar  that  it  gave,  it  made  all  the  valley  echo,  and  all  their 

hearts    to    ache,   save  the  heart  of  him    that   was    their 

250 


IN  THE  VALLEY 

guide.  So  it  came  up,  and  Mr  Great-heart  went  behin3, 
and  put  the  pilgrims  all  before  him.  The  lion  also 
came  on  apace,  and  Mr  Great-heart  addressed  himself  to 
give  him  battle.  But  when  he  saw  that  it  was  determined 
that  resistance  should  be  made,  he  also  drew  back,  and 
came  no  further. 

Then  they  went  on  again,  and  their  conductor  did  go 
before  them,  till  they  came  at  a  place  where  was  cast  up  a 
pit  the  whole  breadth  of  the  way;    and     A  pit  and 
before  they  could  be  prepared  to  go  over     darkness 
that,  a  great  mist  and  a  darkness  fell  upon  them,  so  that 
they  could  not  see.     Then  said  the  pilgrims,  Alas  !  now 
what  shall  we  do  ?     But  their  guide  made  answer,  Fear 
not,  stand  still,  and  see  what  an  end  will  be  put  to  this 
also :  so  they  stayed  there,  because  their  path  was  marred. 
They  then  also  thought  that  they  did  hear  more  apparently 
the  noise  and  rushing  of  the  enemies  •,  the  fire  also,  and 
the  smoke  of  the  pit,  were  much  easier  to  be  discerned. 
Then  said  Christiana  to  Mercy,  Now  I  see     Christiana  now 
what  my  poor  husband  went  through.     I     knows  what  her 
have  heard  much  of  this  place,  but  I  never 
was  here  afore  now.     Poor  man  !  he  went  here  all  alone 
in  the  night ;  he  had  night  almost  quite  through  the  way ; 
also  these  fiends  were  busy  about  him,  as  if  they  would 
have  torn  him  in  pieces.     Many  have  spoke  of  it  ;   but 
none  can  tell  what   the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death 
should  mean  until  they  come  in  it  themselves.     The  heart 
knows  its  own  bitterness-,  and  a  stranger  intermeddleth 
not  with  its  joy.     To  be  here  is  a  fearful  thing. 

Great.     This  is  like  doing  business  in  great  waters,  or 
like  going  down  into  the   deep.      This  is  like  being  in 
the    heart    of    the    sea,    and    like    going 
down  to  the  bottoms  of  the  mountains.    ' 
Now  it  seems  as  if  the  earth,  with  its  bars,  were  about 
us  for  ever.     But  let  them  that   walk  in   darkness  and 
have   no   light,    trust    in   the    name   of    the    Lord,   and 
stay    upon    their    God.      For    my   part,    as    I  have    told 
you    already,    I    have    gone   often    through    this    valley, 

251 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  have  been  much  harder  put  to  it  than  now  I  am  :  and 
yet  you  see  I  am  alive.  I  would  not  boast,  for  that  I  am 
not  mine  own  saviour  ;  but  I  trust  we  shall  have  a  good 
deliverance.  Come,  let  us  pray  for  light  to  Him  that  can 
lighten  our  darkness,  and  that  can  rebuke  not  only  these, 
but  all  the  satans  in  hell. 

So   they  cried  and   prayed,  and   God    sent   light   and 

The     fa  deliverance,  for  there  was  now  no  let  in 

their  way  :  no,  not  there,  where  but  now 

they  were  stopped  with   a  pit.      Yet  they  were  not  got 

through  the  valley.    So  they  went  on  still,  and  beheld  great 

stinks  and  loathsome  smells,  to  the  great 

Mercy  to  Christiana  c     .  ._,,  •  j   n  r 

annoyance  or  them.  1  hen  said  Mercy  to 
Christiana,  There  is  not  such  pleasant  being  here  as  at  the 
gate,  or  at  the  Interpreter's,  or  at  the  house  where  we  lay  last. 

Oh,  but,  said  one  of  the  boys,  it  is  not  so  bad  to  go 
One  of  the  through  here  as  it  is  to  abide  here  always  ; 

boys  reply  an(j  for  aught  I  know,  one  reason  why  we 

must  go  this  way  to  the  house  prepared  for  us  is,  that 
our  home  might  be  made  the  sweeter  to  us. 

Well  said,  Samuel,  quoth  the  guide;  thou  hast  now 
spoke  like  a  man.  Why,  if  ever  I  get  out  here  again, 
said  the  boy,  I  think  I  shall  prize  light  and  good  way  better 
than  ever  I  did  in  all  my  life.  Then  said  the  guide,  We 
shall  be  out  by  and  by. 

So  on  they  went,  and  Joseph  said,  Cannot  we  see  to  the 
end  of  this  valley  as  yet  ?  Then  said  the  guide,  Look  to 
your  feet,  for  you  shall  presently  be  among  the  snares  :  so 
they  looked  to  their  feet,  and  went  on ;  but  they  were 
troubled  much  with  the  snares.  Now  when  they  were 
come  among  the  snares,  they  espied  a  man  cast  into  the 
ditch  on  the  left  hand,  with  his  flesh  all  rent  and  torn. 
Heedless  is  slain,  Then  said  the  guide,  That  is  one  Heedless, 
and  Take-heed  that  was  agoing  this  way  :  he  has  lam  there 
a  great  while.  There  was  one  Take-heed 
with  him  when  he  was  taken  and  slain ;  but  he  escaped 
their  hands.  You  cannot  imagine  how  many  are  killed 
hereabout,  and  yet  men  are  so  foolishly  venturous  as  to 


GIANT  MAUL 

set  out  lightly  on  pilgrimage,  and  to  come  without  a  guide. 
Poor  Christian !  It  was  a  wonder  that  he  here  escaped  j 
but  he  was  beloved  of  his  God :  also  he  had  a  good  heart 
of  his  own,  or  else  he  could  never  a  done  it. 

Now  they  drew  towards  the  end  of  the  way,  and  just 
there  where  Christian  had  seen  the  cave  when  he  went  by, 
out  thence  came  forth  Maul,  a  giant.    This     Maul>  a  giantj  he 
Maul  did  use  to  spoil  young  pilgrims  with     auan-eiswith 
sophistry  -,  and  he  called  Great-heart  by  his 
name,  and  said  unto  him,  How  many  times  have  you  been 
forbidden  to  do  these  things  ?    Then  said  Mr  Great-heart, 
What  things  ?    What  things  !  quoth  the  giant ;  you  know 
what  things :  but  I  will  put  an  end  to  your  trade. 

But  pray,  said  Mr  Great-heart,  before  we  fall  to  it,  let 
us  understand  wherefore  we  must  fight.  Now  the  women 
and  children  stood  trembling,  and  knew  not  what  to  do. 
Quoth  the  giant,  You  rob  the  country,  and  rob  it  with  the 
worst  of  thefts.  These  are  but  generals,  said  Mr  Great- 
heart  ;  come  to  particulars,  man. 

Then  said  the  giant,  Thou  practisest  the  craft  of  a  kid- 
napper 5    thou   gatherest   up   women   and     God-s  ministers 
children,  and  earnest  them  into  a  strange     counted  as 
country,  to  the  weakening  of  my  master's 
kingdom.     But  now  Great-heart  replied,  I  am  a  servant  of 
the  God  of  heaven ;  my  business  is  to  persuade  sinners  to 
repentance.    I  am  commanded  to  do  my  endeavour  to  turn 
men,  women,  and  children,  from  darkness  to  light,  and 
from  the  power  of  Satan  to  God :  and  if     ~, 

.      ,  j       c  The  giant  and 

this  be  indeed  the  ground  or  thy  quarrel,      Mr  Great-heart 

r  11  i  «i  mustfieht 

let  us  fall  to  it  as  soon  as  thou  wilt. 

Then  the  giant  came  up,  and  Mr  Great-heart  went  to 
meet  him ;  and  as  he  went  he  drew  his  sword,  but  the 
giant  had  a  club.  So  without  more  ado  they  fell  to  it, 
and  at  the  first  blow  the  giant  struck  Mr 
Great-heart  down  upon  one  of  his  knees. 
With  that  the  women  and  children  cried.  . 

__....—  .  .  *  .  ,  r         foiks  cries 

So   Mr    Great-heart    recovering    himself, 

laid  about  him  in  full  lusty  manner,  and  gave  the  giant 

25,? 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

a  wound  in  his  arm.  Thus  he  fought  for  the  space  of  an 
hour,  to  that  height  of  heat,  that  the  breath  came  out  of  the 
giant's  nostrils  as  the  heat  doth  out  of  a  boiling  cauldron. 

Then  they  sat  down  to  rest  them ;  but  Mr  Great-heart 
betook  him  to  prayer.  Also  the  women  and  children 
did  nothing  but  sigh  and  cry  all  the  time  that  the  battle 
did  last. 

When  they  had  rested  them,  and  taken  breath,  they  both 
fell  to  it  again,  and  Mr  Great-heart,  with  a  full  blow,  fetched 
The  «ant  tne  giant  down  to  the  ground.  Nay,  hold, 

stru&  down  jet  me  recover,  quoth  he.  So  Mr  Great- 

heart  fairly  let  him  get  up,  so  to  it  they  went  again ;  and 
the  giant  missed  but  little  of  all  to  breaking  Mr  Great- 
heart's  skull  with  his  club. 

Mr  Great-heart  seeing  that,  runs  to  him  in  the  full  heat 
of  his  spirit,  and  pierced  him  under  the  fifth  rib.  With 
He  is  slain  ^at  ^e  g*ant  began  to  faint,  and  could 

and  his  head  hold  up  his  club  no  longer.  Then  Mr 

Great -heart  seconded  his  blow,  and  smote 
the  head  of  the  giant  from  his  shoulders.  Then  the  women 
and  children  rejoiced,  and  Mr  Great-heart  also  praised  God 
for  the  deliverance  he  had  wrought. 

When  this  was  done,  they  amongst  them  erected  a  pillar, 
and  fastened  the  giant's  head  thereon,  and  wrote  under- 
neath in  letters  that  passengers  might  read  : 

He  that  did  wear  this  head  was  one 

That  pilgrims  did  misuse : 
He  stopt  their  way,  he  spared  none, 

But  did  them  all  abuse: 
Until  that  I  Great-heart  arose, 

The  pilgrims'  guide  to  be ; 
Until  that  I  did  him  oppose, 

That  was  their  enemy. 

Now  I  saw  that  they  went  to  the  ascent  that  was  a 
little  way  off  cast  up  to  be  a  prospect  for  pilgrims.  That 
was  the  place  from  whence  Christian  had  the  first  sight  of 
Faithful  his  brother.  Wherefore,  here  they  sat  down  and 
rested.  They  also  here  did  eat  and  drink,  and  make  merry, 
for  that  they  had  gotten  deliverance  from  this  so  dangerous 

254 


DEATH    OF    GIANT    MAUL 

With  that  the  giant  began  to  faint,  and  could  hold  up  his  club  no 

longer.      Then    Mr.    Great-heart    seconded    his    olow,    and 

smote  tne  head  of  the  aiant  from  his  shoulders. 


PILGRIMS  AND  OLD  HONEST 

an  enemy.  As  they  sat  thus  and  did  eat,  Christiana  asked 
the  guide  if  he  had  caught  no  hurt  in  the  battle.  Then 
said  Mr  Great-heart,  No,  save  a  little  on  my  flesh ;  yet  that 
also  shall  be  so  far  from  being  to  my  detriment,  that  it  is 
at  present  a  proof  of  my  love  to  my  Master  and  you,  and 
shall  be  a  means,  by  grace,  to  increase  my  reward  at  last. 

Chr.  But  were  you  not  afraid,  good  sir,  when  you  saw 
him  come  with  his  club  ? 

Great.     It  is  my  duty,  said  he,  to  distrust  mine  own 
ability,  that  I  may  have  reliance  on  Him     Discourse  of 
that  is  stronger  than  all.  the  fieht 

Chr.  But  what  did  you  think  when  he  fetched  you 
down  to  the  ground  at  the  first  blow  ? 

Great.  Why,  I  thought,  quoth  he,  that  so  my  Master 
Himself  was  served,  and  yet  He  it  was  that  conquered  at 
last. 

Matt.  When  you  all  have  thought  what  you  please,  I 
think  God  has  been  wonderful  good  unto  ., 

...  r     i  •  Matthew  here 

us,  both  in  bringing  us  out-  or  this  valley,     admires  God's 
and  in  delivering  us  out  of  the  hand  of  this     goo< 
enemy.     For  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  dis- 
trust our  God  any  more,  since  He  has  now,  and  in  such  a 
place  as  this,  given  us  such  testimony  of  His  love  as  this. 
Then  they  got  up  and  went  forward. 

Now  a  little  before  them  stood  an  oak,  and  under  it, 
when  they  came  to  it,  they  found  an  old     Old  Honest 
pilgrim  fast  asleep.     They  knew  that  he     asleep  under 
was  a  pilgrim,  by  his  clothes,  and  his  staff,     anoak 
and  his  girdle. 

So  the  guide,  Mr  Great-heart,  awaked  him;  and  the 
old  gentleman,  as  he  lift  up  his  eyes,  cried  out,  What's 
the  matter  ?  who  are  you  ?  and  what  is  your  business  here  ? 

Great.  Come,  man,  be  not  so  hot ;  here  are  none  but 
friends.  Yet  the  old  man  gets  up,  and  ~ 

...  ,.     One  saint  some- 

Stands    Upon    hlS    guard,  and  Will   knOW  of     times  takes  another 

them  what    they   were.      Then   said   the 
guide,  My  name  is  Great-heart :  I  am  the  guide  of  these 
pilgrims,  which  are  going  to  the  Celestial  Country. 

255 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Hon.     Then  said  Mr  Honest,  I  cry  you  mercy  :  I  feared 

Talk  between  tnat  y°U  ^a(^  ^en  °^  tne  comPany  °f  those 

Great-heart  that  some  time  ago  did  rob  Little-faith  of 

his  money ;  but,  now  I  look  better  about 
me,  I  perceive  you  are  honester  people. 

Great.  Why,  what  would  or  could  you  a  done  to  a 
helped  yourself,  if  indeed  we  had  been  of  that  company? 

Hon.  Done?  why,  I  would  have  fought  as  long  as 
breath  had  been  in  me ;  and  had  I  so  done,  I  am  sure  you 
could  never  have  given  me  the  worst  on't ;  for  a  Christian 
can  never  be  overcome  unless  he  shall  yield  of  himself. 

Great.  Well  said,  father  Honest,  quoth  the  guide  5  for 
by  this  I  know  that  thou  art  a  cock  of  the  right  kind,  for 
thou  hast  said  the  truth. 

Hon.  And  by  this  also  I  know  that  thou  knowest  what 
true  pilgrimage  is ;  for  all  others  do  think  that  we  are  the 
soonest  overcome  of  any. 

Great.  Well,  now  we  are  so  happily  met,  pray  let  me 
crave  your  name,  and  the  name  of  the  place  you  came 
from. 

Hon.  My  name  I  cannot,  but  I  came  from  the  town 
Whence  Mr  °f  Stupidity ;  it  lieth  about  four  degrees 

Honest  came  beyond  the  City  of  Destruction. 

Great.  Oh  !  are  you  that  countryman  then  ?  I  deem 
I  have  half  a  guess  of  you  ;  your  name  is  old  Honesty,  is 
it  not  ? 

Hon.  So  the  old  gentleman  blushed,  and  said,  Not 
Honesty  in  the  abstract,  but  Honest  is  my  name ;  and  I 
wish  that  my  nature  shall  agree  to  what  I  am  called.  But, 
sir,  said  the  old  gentleman,  how  could  you  guess  that  I  am 
such  a  man,  since  I  came  from  such  a  place  ? 

Great.  I  had  heard  of  you  before  by  my  Master,  for 
He  knows  all  things  that  are  done  on  the  earth.  But  I  have 
Stu  ified  ones  are  °ften  wondered  that  any  should  come  from 
worse  than  those  your  place;  for  your  town  is  worse  than 

merely  carnal  .^  ^  ^  of  DestruCtioQ  itself. 

Hon.  Yes,  we  lie  more  off  from  the  sun,  and  so  are 
more  cold  and  senseless.  But  were  a  man  in  a  mountain 

256 


OLD  HONEST'S  BLESSING 

of  ice,  yet  if  the  Sun  of  righteousness  will  arise  upon 
him,  his  frozen  heart  shall  feel  a  thaw  ;  and  thus  it  hath 
been  with  me. 

Great.  I  believe  it,  father  Honest,  I  believe  it ;  for  I 
know  the  thing  is  true. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  saluted  all  the  pilgrims  with  a 
holy  kiss  of  chanty,  and  asked  them  their  names,  and  how 
they  had  fared  since  they  set  out  on  their  pilgrimage. 

Chr.     Then  said  Christiana,  My  name  I  suppose  you 
have  heard  of  5  good  Christian  was  my  husband,  and  these 
four  were  his  children.    But  can  you  think     old  Honest  and 
how  the  old  gentleman  was  taken  when  she     Christiana  talk 
old  him   who  she  was  ?     He  skipped,   he   smiled,    and 
blessed  them  with  a  thousand  good  wishes,  saying  : 

Hon.     I  have  heard  much  of  your  husband,  and  of  his 
travels  and  wars  which  he  underwent  in     He  also  talks 
his  days.     Be  it  spoken  to  your  comfort,     with  the  b°ys 
the  name  of  your  husband  rings  all  over  these  parts  of 
the  world  :  his  faith,  his  courage,  his  enduring,  and  his 
sincerity  under  all,  have  made  his  name  famous.     Then 
he  turned  him  to  the  boys,  and  asked  them  of  their  names, 
which    they    told   him.     And    then  said   he    unto    them, 
Matthew,  be  thou  like  Matthew  the  publican,  riot  in  vice, 
but  virtue.     Samuel,  said  he,  be  thou  like     oid  Mr  Honest 
Samuel  the  prophet,  a  man  of  faith  and     blessing  on  them 
prayer.     Joseph,  said  he,  be  thou  like  Joseph  in  Potiphar's 
house,  chaste  and  one  that  flees  from  temptation.     And, 
James,  be  thou  like  James  the  just,  and  like  James  the 
brother  of  our  Lord.    Then  they  told  him  of  Mercy,  and  how 
she  had  left  her  town  and  her  kindred  to  come  along  with 
Christiana,  and  with  her  sons.     At  that  the  old  honest  man 
said,  Mercy  is  thy  name :  by  mercy  shalt     He  biesseth 
thou  be  sustained  and  carried  through  all     Mercy 
those  difficulties  that  shall  assault  thee  in  thy  way,  till  thou 
shalt  come  thither  where  thou  shalt  look  the  Fountain  of 
mercy  in  the  face  with  comfort.     All  this  while  the  guide 
Mr  Great-heart  was  very  much  pleased,  and  smiled  upon 
his  companion. 

257  R 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Now,  as  they  walked  along  together  the  guide  asked  the 
Talk  of  one  Mr  °^  gentleman,  if  he  did  not  know  one 
Fearing  Mr  Fearing,  that  came  on  pilgrimage  out 

of  his  parts. 

Hon.  Yes,  very  well,  said  he.  He  was  a  man  that  had 
the  root  of  the  matter  in  him  :  but  he  was  one  of  the  most 
troublesome  pilgrims  that  ever  I  met  with  in  all  my  days. 

Great.  I  perceive  you  knew  him,  for  you  have  given  a 
very  right  character  of  him. 

Hon.  Knew  him  !  I  was  a  great  companion  of  his ;  I 
was  with  him  most  an  end  ;  when  he  first  began  to  think 
of  what  would  come  upon  us  hereafter,  I  was  with  him. 

Great.  I  was  his  guide  from  my  Master's  house  to  the 
gates  of  the  Celestial  City. 

Hon.     Then  you  knew  him  to  be  a  troublesome  one. 

Great.  I  did  so  ;  but  I  could  very  well  bear  it ;  for  men 
of  my  calling  are  oftentimes  intrusted  with  the  conduct  of 
such  as  he  was. 

Hon.  Well  then,  pray  let  us  hear  a  little  of  him,  and 
how  he  managed  himself  under  your  conduct. 

Great.     Why,  he  was  always  afraid  that  he  should  come 

MrFearins's  short  of  whither  he  had  a  desire  to  go. 

troublesome  Everything  frightened  him  that  he  heard 

anybody  speak  of,  that  had  but  the  least 

appearance  of  opposition  in  it.     I  heard  that  he  lay  roar- 

His  behaviour  at       ing  at  the  Slough  of  Despond  for  above 
the  Slough  of  a  month  together  :  nor  durst  he,  for  all  he 

Despond  t     r          ,  . 

saw  several  go  over  before  him,  venture, 
though  they  many  of  them  offered  to  lend  him  their  hand. 
He  would  not  go  back  again  neither.  The  Celestial  City, 
— he  said  he  should  die  if  he  came  not  to  it ;  and  yet  was 
dejected  at  every  difficulty,  and  stumbled  at  every  straw 
that  anybody  cast  in  his  way.  Well,  after  he  had  lain  at 
the  Slough  of  Despond  a  great  while,  as  I  have  told  you, 
one  sunshiny  morning,  I  do  not  know  how,  he  ventured, 
and  so  got  over  j  but  when  he  was  over,  he  would  scarcely 
believe  it.  He  had,  I  think,  a  Slough  of  Despond  in  his 
mind,  a  slough  that  he  carried  everywhere  with  him,  or 


TALK  OF  MR  FEARING 

else  he  could  never  have  Deen  as  he  was.  So  he  came  up 
to  the  gate,  you  know  what  I  mean,  that  stands  at  the 
head  of  this  way,  and  there  also  he  stood  His  behaviour  at 
a  good  while  before  he  would  adventure  to  the  &ate 
knock.  When  the  gate  was  opened,  he  would  give  back, 
and  give  place  to  others,  and  say  that  he  was  not  worthy. 
For,  for  all  he  got  before  some  to  the  gate,  yet  many  of 
them  went  in  before  him.  There  the  poor  man  would 
stand  shaking  and  shrinking;  I  dare  say  it  would  have 
pitied  one's  heart  to  have  seen  him.  Nor  would  he  go 
back  again.  At  last  he  took  the  hammer  that  hanged  on 
the  gate  in  his  hand,  and  gave  a  small  rap  or  two ;  then 
one  opened  to  him,  but  he  shrunk  back  as  before.  He  that 
opened,  stepped  out  after  him,  and  said,  Thou  trembling 
one,  what  wantest  thou  ?  With  that  he  fell  down  to  the 
ground.  He  that  spoke  to  him  wondered  to  see  him  so 
faint,  so  he  said  to  him,  Peace  be  to  thee ;  up,  for  I  have 
set  open  the  door  to  thee  ;  come  in,  for  thou  art  blessed. 
With  that  he  got  up,  and  went  in  trembling  ;  and  when  he 
was  in,  he  was  ashamed  to  show  his  face.  Well,  after  he 
had  been  entertained  there  awhile,  as  you  know  how  the 
manner  is,  he  was  bid  go  on  his  way,  and  also  told  the  way 
he  should  take.  So  he  came  till  he  came  to  our  house ; 
but  as  he  behaved  himself  at  the  gate,  so  „.  .  .  . 

*?        *  Wis  behaviour  at 

he  did  at  my  Master  the  Interpreter  s  door,  the  interpreter's 
He  lay  thereabout  in  the  cold  a  good  while, 
before  he  would  adventure  to  call ;  yet  he  would  not  go 
back ;  and  the  nights  were  long  and  cold  then.  Nay,  he 
had  a  note  of  necessity  in  his  bosom  to  my  Master  to  receive 
him,  and  grant  him  the  comfort  of  his  house,  and  also  to 
allow  him  a  stout  and  valiant  conduct,  because  he  was 
himself  so  chicken-hearted  a  man ;  and  yet  for  all  that  he 
was  afraid  to  call  at  the  door.  So  he  lay  up  and  down 
thereabouts,  till,  poor  man,  he  was  almost  starved;  yea, 
so  great  was  his  dejection,  that  though  he  saw  several 
others  for  knocking  get  in,  yet  he  was  afraid  to  venture. 
At  last,  I  think  I  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  perceiv- 
ing a  man  to  be  up  and  down  about  the  door,  I  went  out 

259 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

to  him,  and  asked  what  he  was  -,  but,  poor  man,  the  water 
stood  in  his  eyes  ;  so  I  perceived  what  he  wanted.  I  went 
therefore  in,  and  told  it  in  the  house,  and  we  showed  the 
thing  to  our  Lord  :  so  He  sent  me  out  again,  to  entreat 
him  to  come  in  ;  but  I  dare  say,  I  had  hard  work  to  do  it. 

How  he  was  en-  At  last  ne  came  in  >    and  I  wi^  Sa7  tnat  f°r 

tertained  there  my  Lord,  he  carried  it  wonderful  lovingly 
to  him.  There  were  but  a  few  good  bits  at  the  table,  but 
some  of  it  was  laid  upon  his  trencher.  Then  he  presented 
the  note  ;  and  my  Lord  looked  thereon,  and  said  his  desire 
should  be  granted.  So  when  he  had  been  there  a  good  while, 
he  seemed  to  get  some  heart,  and  to  be  a  little  more  com- 
He  is  a  little  en-  fortable.  For  my  Master,  you  must  know, 
couragredatthein-  is  one  of  very  tender  bowels,  especially  to 
them  that  are  afraid  ;  wherefore  he  carried 
it  so  towards  him,  as  might  tend  most  to  his  encourage- 
ment. Well,  when  he  had  had  a  sight  of  the  things  of  the 
place,  and  was  ready  to  take  his  journey  to  go  to  the  city, 
my  Lord,  as  he  did  to  Christian  before,  gave  him  a  bottle 
of  spirits,  and  some  comfortable  things  to  eat.  Thus  we 
set  forward,  and  I  went  before  him  ;  but  the  man  was  but 
of  few  words,  only  he  would  sigh  aloud. 

When  we  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  three 
He  was  reati  fellows  were  hanged,  he  said  that  he 
afraid  when  he  doubted  that  that  would  be  his  end  also. 
brtSSJvS&n  Only  he  seemed  glad  when  he  saw  the 
Cross  and  the  Sepulchre.  There  I  confess 
he  desired  to  stay  a  little  to  look ;  and  he  seemed  for  a 
while  after  to  be  a  little  cheery.  When  he  came  at  the 
Hill  Difficulty,  he  made  no  stick  at  that,  nor  did  he  much 
fear  the  lions :  for  you  must  know  that  his  trouble  was 
not  about  such  things  as  those ;  his  fear  was  about  his 
acceptance  at  last. 

I  got  him  in  at  the  house  Beautiful,  I  think  before  he  was 
willing.  Also  when  he  was  in,  I  brought  him  acquainted 
Dumpish  at  the  witn  tne  damsels  that  were  of  the  place  ; 
house  Beautiful  t>ut  he  was  ashamed  to  make  himself  much 
for  company.  He  desired  much  to  be  alone  5  yet  he 

260 


TALK  OF  MR  FEARING 

always  loved  good  talk,  and  often  would  get  behind  the 
screen  to  hear  i*.  He  also  loved  much  to  see  ancient 
things,  and  to  be  pondering  them  in  his  mind.  He  told 
me  afterwards,  that  he  loved  to  be  in  those  two  houses 
from  which  he  came  last,  to  wit,  at  the  gate,  and  that  of 
the  Interpreter,  but  that  he  durst  not  be  so  bold  to  ask. 

When  we  went  also  from  the  house  Beautiful,  down 
the  hill,  into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  he     He  went  down 
went  down  as  well  as  ever  I  saw  a  man  in     into>  and  was  very 

,._.-.  .  ,  ,  pleasant  in  the 

my  life^  for  he  cared  not  how  mean  he     VaiieyofHumUia- 
was,  so  he  might  be  happy  at  last.     Yea, 
I  think  there  was  a  kind  of  sympathy  betwixt  that  valley 
and  him ;  for  I  never  saw  him  better  in  all  his  pilgrimage 
than  when  he  was  in  that  valley. 

Here  he  would  lie  down,  embrace  the  ground,  and  kiss 
the  very  flowers  that  grew  in  this  valley.  He  would  now 
be  up  every  morning  by  break  of  day,  tracing  and  walking 
to  and  fro  in  this  valley. 

But  when  he  was  come  to  the  entrance  of  the  Valley  of 
the  Shadow  of  Death,  I  thought  I  should 
have  lost  my  man:   not  for  that   he  had     KeOe^of 
any  inclination  to  go  back ;  that  he  always     JJe  Shadow  of 
abhorred;   but   he  was   ready  to  die  for 
fear.     Oh,  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me !  the  hobgoblins 
will  have  me  !  cried  he  ;  and  I  could  not  beat  him  out  on't. 
He  made  such  a  noise,  and  such  an  outcry  here,  that  had 
they  but  heard  him,  'twas  enough  to  encourage  them  to 
come  and  fall  upon  us. 

But  this  I  took  very  great  notice  of,  that  this  valley  was 
as  quiet  when  he  went  through  it,  as  ever  I  knew  it 
before  or  since.  I  suppose  those  enemies  here  had  now 
a  special  check  from  oar  Lord,  and  a  command  not  to 
meddle  until  Mr  Fearing  was  passed  over  it. 

It  would  be  too  tedious    to  tell  you  of  all:    we  will 
therefore  only  mention  a  passage  or  two  more.     When 
he  was  come  at  Vanity  Fair,  I  thought  he      His  behaviour  at 
would  have  fought  with  all  the  men  in  the     Vanity  Fair 
fair.     I  feared  there  we  should  both  have  been  knocked 

261 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

on  the  head,  so  hot  was  he  against  their  fooleries.  Upon 
the  Enchanted  Ground  he  also  was  very  wakeful.  But 
when  he  was  come  at  the  river  where  was  no  bridge,  there 
again  he  was  in  a  heavy  case.  Now,  now,  he  said,  he 
should  be  drowned  for  ever,  and  so  never  see  that  face 
with  comfort,  that  he  had  come  so  many  miles  to  behold. 

And  here  also  I  took  notice  of  what  was  very  remarkable; 
— the  water  of  that  river  was  lower  at  this  time  than  ever 
I  saw  it  in  all  my  life  j  so  he  went  over  at  last,  not  much 
His  boldness  at  above  wetshod.  When  he  was  going  up 
lASt  to  the  gate  Mr  Great-heart  began  to  take 

his  leave  of  him,  and  to  wish  him  a  good  reception  above. 
So  he  said,  I  shall,  I  shall.  Then  parted  we  asunder,  and  I 
saw  him  no  more. 

Hon.     Then  it  seems  he  was  well  at  last  ? 

Great.  Yes,  yes,  I  never  had  a  doubt  about  him.  He  was 
a  man  of  a  choice  spirit,  only  he  was  always  kept  very  low, 
and  that  madehislifesoburdensometohimself,andsotrouble- 
some  to  others.  He  was,  above  many,  tender  of  sin  :  he  was 
so  afraid  of  doing  injuries  to  others,  that  he  often  would  deny 
himself  of  that  which  was  lawful,  because  he  would  not  offend. 

Hon.  But  what  should  be  the  reason  that  such  a  good 
man  should  be  all  his  days  so  much  in  the  dark  ? 

Great.     There  are  two  sorts  of  reasons  for  it.      One 

Reason  why  (rood         is>    the  .wise    G°d     wi]1  haVG    k    SO :    SOme 

men  are  so  in  the  must  pipe,  and  some  must  weep.  Now 
Mr  Fearing  was  one  that  played  upon 
this  bass.  He  and  his  fellows  sound  the  sackbut,  whose 
notes  are  more  doleful  than  the  notes  of  other  music  are : 
though  indeed  some  say,  the  bass  is  the  ground  of  music. 
And  for  my  part,  I  care  not  at  all  for  that  profession  that 
begins  not  in  heaviness  of  mind.  The  first  string  that  the 
musician  usually  touches,  is  the  bass,  when  he  intends  to 
put  all  in  tune.  God  also  plays  upon  this  string  first,  when 
He  sets  the  soul  in  tune  for  Himself.  Only  here  was  the 
imperfection  of  Mr  Fearing  ;  he  could  play  upon  no  other 
music  but  this,  till  towards  his  latter  end. 

I  make  bold  to  talk  thus  metaphorically  for  the  ripening 
262 


GREAT-HEART  CONDUCTING  MR  FEARING  THROUGH  THE 

VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH 

"  7  thought  I  should  have  lost  my  man.  —  lie  \cas  ready 

to  die  for  fear." 


TALK  OF  MR  FEARING 

of  the  wits  of  young  readers,  and  because  in  the  Book  of 
the  Revelation,  the  saved  are  compared  to  a  company  of 
musicians,  that  play  upon  their  trumpets  and  harps,  and 
sing  their  songs  before  the  throne. 

Hon.  He  was  a  very  zealous  man,  as  one  may  see  by 
the  relation  you  have  given  of  him.  Difficulties,  lions, 
or  Vanity  Fair,  he  feared  not  at  all ;  'twas  only  sin,  death, 
and  hell,  that  were  to  him  a  terror,  because  he  had  some 
doubts  about  his  interest  in  that  celestial  country 

Great.  You  say  right;  those  were  the  things  that 
were  his  troublers :  and  they,  as  you  have 

lit  i  r  u  i  A  close  about  him 

well  observed,  arose  rrom  the  weakness 
of  his  mind  thereabout,  not  from  weakness  of  spirit  as  to 
the  practical  part  of  a  pilgrim's  life.  I  dare  believe  that, 
as  the  proverb  is,  he  could  have  bit  a  firebrand,  had  it 
stood  in  his  way  ;  but .  the  things  with  which  he  was 
oppressed,  no  man  ever  yet  could  shake  off  with  ease. 

Chr.     Then  said  Christiana,  This  relation  of  Mr  Fearing 
has  done  me  good  :  I  thought  nobody  had     Christiana's  sen- 
been  like  me.     But  I  see  there  was  some     tence 
semblance  'twixt  this  good  man  and  I :  only  we  differed 
in  two  things.     His  troubles  were  so  great,  they  broke 
out ;  but  mine  I  kept  within.     His  also  lay  so  hard  upon 
him,  they  made  him  that  he  could  not  knock  at  the  houses 
provided  for  entertainment ;  but  my  trouble  was  always 
such  as  made  me  knock  the  louder. 

Mer.  If  I  might  also  speak  my  heart,  I  must  say  that 
something  of  him  has  also  dwelt  in  me.  ,  > 

For  I  have  ever  been  more  afraid  of  the  ic°i 

lake,  and  the  loss  of  a  place  in  paradise,  than  I  have  been 
of  the  loss  of  other  things.  Oh,  thought  I,  may  I  have  the 
happiness  to  have  a  habitation  there  !  'Tis  enough,  though 
I  part  with  all  the  world  to  win  it. 

Matt.     Then  said  Matthew,  Fear  was  one  thing  that 
made  me  think  that  I  was  far  from  having     Matthew's  sen- 
that  within  me  that  accompanies  salvation.     tencc 
But  if  it  was  so  with  such  a  good  man  as  he,  why  may  it 
not  also  go  well  with  me  ? 

263 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

James.  No  fears,  no  grace,  said  James.  Though  there 
is  not  always  grace  where  there  is  the  fear 
Jan  of  hell,  yet  to  be  sure  there  is  no  grace 

where  there  is  no  fear  of  God. 

Great.  Well  said,  James,  thou  hast  hit  the  mark.  For 
the  fear  of  God  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom ;  and  to  be 
sure  they  that  want  the  beginning  have  neither  middle  nor 
end.  But  we  will  here  conclude  our  discourse  of  Mr 
Fearing,  after  we  have  sent  after  him  this  farewell. 

Well,  Master  Fearing,  thou  didst  fear 

Thy  God,  and  wast  afraid 
Of  doing  any  thing,  while  here, 
Their  farewell          That  would  have  thee  betrayed, 
about  him  And  didst  thou  fear  the  lake  and  pit? 

Would  others  do  so  too  1 
For,  as  for  them  that  want  thy  wit, 
They  do  themselves  undo. 

Now  I  saw  that  they  still  went  on  in  their  talk.     For  after 
Mr  Great-heart  had  made  an  end  with  Mr  Fearing,  Mr  Honest 
began  to  tell  them  of  another,  but  his  name  was  Mr  Self-will. 
He  pretended  himself  to  be  a  pilgrim,  said 
Mr  Honest ;  but  I  persuade  myself  he  never 
came  in  at  the  gate  that  stands  at  the  head  of  the  way. 
Great.     Had  you  ever  any  talk  with  him  about  it? 
Hon.     Yes,  more  than  once  or  twice;  but  he  would 
Old  Honest  had        always  be  like  himself,  self- willed.      He 
talked  with  him        neither  cared  for  man,  nor  argument,  nor 
yet  example ;  what  his  mind  prompted  him  to,  that  he 
would  do,  and  nothing  else  could  he  be  got  to. 

Great.  Pray  what  principles  did  he  hold  ?  for  I  suppose 
you  can  tell. 

Hon.     He  held,  that  a  man  might  follow  the  vices  as 

well  as  the  virtues  of  the  pilgrims ;  and  that 

if  he  did  both,  he  should  be  certainly  saved. 

Great.     How  ?     If  he  had  said,  'tis  possible   for  the 

best  to  be  guilty  of  the  vices,  as  well  as  to  partake  of  the 

virtues  of  pilgrims,  he  could  not  much  have  been  blamed ; 

for  indeed  we  are  exempted  from  no  vice  absolutely,  but 

on  condition  that  we  watch  and  strive.    But  this  I  perceive 

264 


TALK  OF  SELF-WILL 

is  not  the  thing ;  but  if  I  understand  you  right,  your 
meaning  is,  that  he  was  of  that  opinion,  that  it  was  allow- 
able so  to  be. 

Hon.  Ay,  ay,  so  I  mean,  and  so  he  believed  and 
practised. 

Great.     But  what  grounds  had  he  for  his  so  saying  ? 

Hon.    Why,  he  said  he  had  the  Scripture  for  his  warrant. 

Great.  Prithee,  Mr  Honest,  present  us  with  a  few 
particulars. 

Hon.  So  I  will.  He  said,  to  have  to  do  with  other 
men's  wives  had  been  practised  by  David,  God's  beloved, 
and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  to  have  more 
women  than  one  was  a  thing  that  Solomon  practised,  and 
therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  that  Sarah  and  the  godly 
midwives  of  Egypt  lied,  and  so  did  saved  Rahab,  and 
therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  that  the  disciples  went 
at  the  bidding  of  their  Master,  and  took  away  the  owner's 
ass,  and  therefore  he  could  do  so  too.  He  said,  that 
Jacob  got  the  inheritance  of  his  father  in  a  way  of  guile 
and  dissimulation,  and  therefore  he  could  do  so  too. 

Great.  High  base  indeed  !  And  are  you  sure  he  was 
of  this  opinion  ? 

Hon.  I  have  heard  him  plead  for  it,  bring  Scripture 
for  it,  bring  argument  for  it,  etc. 

Great.  An  opinion  that  is  not  fit  to  be  with  any  allow- 
ance in  the  world ! 

Hon.  You  must  understand  me  rightly  :  he  did  not  say 
that  any  man  might  do  this ;  but  that  those  that  had  the 
virtues  of  those  that  did  such  things,  might  also  do  the  same. 

Great.  But  what  more  false  than  such  a  conclusion  ? 
For  this  is  as  much  as  to  say,  that  because  good  men  here- 
tofore have  sinned  of  infirmity,  therefore  he  had  allowance 
to  do  it  of  a  presumptuous  mind:  or  if,  because  a  child, 
by  the  blast  of  the  wind,  or  for  that  it  stumbled  at  a  stone, 
fell  down  and  so  defiled  itself  in  mire,  therefore  he  might 
wilfully  lie  down  and  wallow  like  a  boar  therein.  Who 
could  a  thought  that  any  one  could  so  far  a  been 
blinded  by  the  power  of  lust  ?  But  what  is  written  must 
be  true ; — they  stumble  at  the  word,  being  disobedient, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

whereunto  also  they  were  appointed.  His  supposing  that 
such  may  have  the  godly  men's  virtues,  who  addict  them- 
selves to  their  vices,  is  also  a  delusion  as  strong  as  the  other. 
'Tis  just  as  if  the  dog  should  say,  I  have,  or  may  have,  the 
qualities  of  the  child,  because  I  lick  up  its  stinking 
excrements.  To  eat  up  the  sin  of  God's  people  is  no  sign 
of  one  that  is  possessed  with  their  virtues.  Nor  can  I 
believe  that  one  that  is  of  this  opinion,  can  at  present  have 
faith  or  love  in  him.  But  I  know  you  have  made  strong 
objections  against  him;  prithee  what  can  he  say  for  himself? 

Hon.  Why,  he  says,  to  do  this  by  way  of  opinion 
seems  abundantly  more  honest  than  to  do  it,  and  yet  hold 
contrary  to  it  in  opinion. 

Great.  A  very  wicked  answer.  For  though  to  let 
loose  the  bridle  to  lusts,  while  our  opinions  are  against  such 
things,  is  bad ;  yet  to  sin,  and  plead  a  toleration  so  to  do, 
is  worse :  the  one  stumbles  beholders  accidentally,  the  other 
pleads  them  into  the  snare. 

Hon.  There  are  many  of  this  man's  mind,  that  have 
not  this  man's  mouth ;  and  that  makes  going  on  pilgrimage 
of  so  little  esteem  as  it  is. 

Great.  You  have  said  the  truth,  and  it  is  to  be 
lamented :  but  he  that  feareth  the  King  of  paradise  shall 
come  out  of  them  all. 

Chr.  There  are  strange  opinions  in  the  world.  I  know 
one  that  said,  'twas  time  enough  to  repent  when  they  came 
to  die. 

Great.  Such  are  not  over-wise;  that  man  would  a 
been  loth,  might  he  have  had  a  week  to  run  twenty  miles  in 
for  his  life,  to  have  deferred  that  journey  to  the  last  hour 
of  that  week. 

Hon.  You  say  right ;  and  yet  the  generality  of  them 
that  count  themselves  pilgrims  do  indeed  do  thus.  I  am, 
as  you  see,  an  old  man,  and  have  been  a  traveller  in  this 
road  many  a  day ;  and  I  have  taken  notice  of  many  things. 

I  have  seen  some  that  have  set  out  as  if  they  would 
drive  all  the  world  afore  them,  who  yet  have  in  few 
days  died  as  they  in  the  wilderness,  and  so  never  got 

266, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  GAIUS 

sight  of  the  promised  land.  I  have  seen  some  that  have 
promised  nothing  at  first  setting  out  to  be  pilgrims,  and 
that  one  would  a  thought  could  not  have  lived  a  day, 
that  have  yet  proved  very  good  pilgrims.  I  have  seen 
some  that  have  run  hastily  forward,  that  again  have,  after 
a  little  time,  run  as  fast  just  back  again.  I  have  seen 
some  who  have  spoken  very  well  of  a  pilgrim's  life  at 
first,  that  after  a  while  have  spoken  as  much  against  it. 
I  have  heard  some,  when  they  first  set  out  for  paradise, 
say  positively  there  is  such  a  place,  who,  when  they  have 
been  almost  there,  have  come  back  again,  and  said  there 
is  none.  I  have  heard  some  vaunt  what  they  would  do  in 
case  they  should  be  opposed,  that  have,  even  at  a  false 
alarm,  fled  faith,  the  pilgrim's  way,  and  all. 

Now  as  they  were  thus  on  their  way,  there  came  one 
running  to  meet  them,  and  said,  Gentle-     Fresh  news  of 
men,  and  you  of  the  weaker  sort,  if  you     trouble 
love  life,  shift  for  yourselves,  for  the  robbers  are  before  you. 

Great.     Then  said  Mr  Great-heart,  They  be  the  three 
that  set  upon  Little-Faith  heretofore.     Well,  said  he,  we 
are   ready   for   them :    so   they   went   on     Great-heart's 
their  way.      Now  they  looked   at   every     resolution 
turning  when    they  should  a  met  with  the  villains ;  but 
whether  they  heard  of  Mr  Great-heart,  or  whether  they 
had  some  other  game,  they  came  not  up  to  the  pilgrims. 

Christiana  then  wished  for  an  inn  for  herself  and  her 
children,  because  they  were  weary.    Then     Christiana wisheth 
said   Mr   Honest,    There   is  one   a  little     for  an  inn 
before  us,  where  a  very  honourable  disciple,  one  Gaius, 
dwells.     So  they  all  concluded  to  turn  in         . 
thither  ;  and  the  rather,  because  the    old 
gentleman  gave  him  so  good  a  report.     So  when  they  came 
to  the  door,  they  went  in,  not  knocking,     They  enter  into 
for  folks  use  not  to  knock  at  the  door  of     his  house 
an  inn.     Then  they  called  for  the  master  of  the  house, 
and  he  came  to  them.     So  they  asked  if  they  might  lie 
there  that  night. 

Gaius.     Yes,  gentlemen,  if  you  be  true  men ;  for  my 
267 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

house  is  for  none  but  pilgrims.  Then  were  Christiana, 
Gaius  entertains  Mercy,  and  the  boys,  the  more  glad,  for 
them,  and  how  tnat  the  innkeeper  was  a  lover  of  pilgrims. 
So  they  called  for  rooms,  and  he  showed  them  one  for 
Christiana  and  her  children  and  Mercy,  and  another  for 
Mr  Great-heart  and  the  old  gentleman. 

Great.  Then  said  Mr  Great-heart,  Good  Gaius,  what 
hast  thou  for  supper  ?  for  these  pilgrims  have  come  far 
to-day,  and  are  weary. 

Gaius.  It  is  late,  said  Gaius,  so  we  cannot  conveniently 
go  out  to  seek  food ;  but  such  as  we  have  you  shall  be 
welcome  to,  if  that  will  content. 

Great.  We  will  be  content  with  what  thou  hast  in  the 
house ;  for  as  much  as  I  have  proved  thee,  thou  art  never 
destitute  of  that  which  is  convenient. 

Then  he  went  down  and  spake  to  the  cook,  whose  name 
was  Taste-that-which-is-good,  to  get  ready 

Gaius'scook  r  .,     9         '    ^J? '.      ,        J 

supper  for  so  many  pilgrims.  This  done, 
he  came  up  again,  saying,  Come,  my  good  friends,  you  are 
welcome  to  me,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  have  a  house  to 
entertain  you  ;  and  while  supper  is  making  ready,  if  you 
please,  let  us  entertain  one  another  with  some  good  dis- 
course ;  so  they  all  said,  Content. 

Gaius.  Then  said  Gaius,  Whose  wife  is  this  aged 
Talk  between  matron  ?  and  whose  daughter  is  this  young 

Gams  and  his  * 

guests.  damsel  ? 

Great.     The  woman  is  the  wife  of  one  Christian,  a  pilgrim 

of  former  times  ;  and  these  are  his  four  children.    The  maid 

is  one  of  her  acquaintance,  one  that  she  hath  persuaded  to 

come  with  her  on  pilgrimage.     The  boys  take  all  after  their 

father,  and  covet  to  tread  in  his  steps ;  yea, 

if  they  do  but  see  any  place  where  the  olJ 

pilgrim  hath  lain,  or  any  print  of  his  foot,  it  ministereth  joy 

to  their  hearts,  and  they  covet  to  lie  or  tread  in  the  same. 

Gaius.  Then  said  Gaius,  Is  this  Christian's  wife,  and 
Of  Christian's  an-  are  these  Christian's  children?  I  knew 
cestors.  your  husband's  father,  yea,  also  his  father's 

father.    Many  have  been  good  of  this  stock  :  their  ancestors 

268. 


AT  GAIUS'S  HOUSE 

dwelt  first  at  Antioch.  Christian's  progenitors  (I  suppose 
you  have  heard  your  husband  talk  of  them)  were  very 
worthy  men.  They  have,  above  any  that  I  know, 
showed  themselves  men  of  great  virtue  and  courage,  for 
the  Lord  of  the  pilgrims,  His  ways,  and  them  that  loved 
Him.  I  have  heard  of  many  of  your  husband's  relations 
that  have  stood  all  trials  for  the  sake  of  the  truth.  Stephen, 
that  was  one  of  the  first  of  the  family  from  whence  your 
husband  sprang,  was  knocked  on  the  head  with  stones. 
James,  another  of  this  generation,  was  slain  with  the 
edge  of  the  sword.  To  say  nothing  of  Paul  and  Peter, 
men  anciently  of  the  family  from  whence  your  husband 
came,  there  was  Ignatius,  who  was  cast  to  the  lions ; 
Romanus,  whose  flesh  was  cut  by  pieces  from  his  bones ; 
and  Polycarp,  that  played  the  man  in  the  fire.  There 
was  he  that  was  hanged  up  in  a  basket  in  the  sun  for 
the  wasps  to  eat ;  and  he  whom  they  put  into  a  sack, 
and  cast  him  into  the  sea  to  be  drowned.  'Twould  be  im- 
possible utterly  to  count  up  all  of  that  family  that  have 
suffered  injuries  and  death  for  the  love  of  a  pilgrim's  life. 
Nor  can  I  but  be  glad  to  see  that  thy  husband  has  left 
behind  him  four  such  boys  as  these.  I  hope  they  will 
bear  up  their  father's  name,  and  tread  in  their  father's  steps, 
and  come  to  their  father's  end. 

Great.  Indeed,  sir,  they  are  likely  lads  •,  they  seem  to 
choose  heartily  their  father's  ways. 

Gaius.     That  is  it  that  I  said.     Wherefore  Christian's 
family  is  like  still  to  spread  abroad  upon  the  face  of  the 
ground,  and  yet  to  be  numerous  upon  the     Advice  to  Christ- 
f  ace  of  the  earth  ;  wherefore  let  Christiana     »ana  about  her 
look  out  some  damsels  for  her  sons,   to 
whom  they  may  be  betrothed,  etc.,  that  the  name  of  their 
father,   and  the  house  of  his  progenitors,  may  never  be 
forgotten  in  the  world. 

Hon.     'Tis  pity  this  family  should  fall  and  be  extinct. 

Gaius.  Fall  it  cannot,  but  be  diminished  it  may  •,  but 
let  Christiana  take  my  advice,  and  that's  the  way  to  up- 
hold it.  And,  Christiana,  said  this  inn-keeper,  I  am  glad 

269 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

to  see  thee  and  thy  friend  Mercy  together  here,  a  lovely 
couple.  And  may  I  advise,  take  Mercy  into  a  nearer 
relation  to  thee :  if  she  will,  let  her  be  given  to  Matthew 
thy  eldest  son.  'Tis  the  way  to  preserve  a  posterity  in 
Mercy  and  the  earth.  So  this  match  was  concluded, 

Matthew  marry  ancj  jn  process  of  time  they  were  married : 
but  more  of  that  hereafter. 

Gaius  also  proceeded,  and  said,  I  will  now  speak  on 
the  behalf  of  women,  to  take  away  their  reproach.  For 
as  death  and  the  curse  came  into  the  world  by  a  woman, 
Gen.  iii.,  so  also  did  life  and  health  :  God  sent  forth  His 
Son,  made  of  a  woman.  Yea,  to  show  how  much  those 
Wh  women  of  ^^  came  a^ter  did  abhor  the  act  of  their 
old  foTi^h'de-  mother,  this  sex  in  the  Old  Testament 
coveted  children,  if  happily  this  or  that 
woman  might  be  the  mother  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 
I  will  say  again,  that  when  the  Saviour  was  come,  women 
rejoiced  in  Him,  before  either  man  or  angel.  I  read  not 
that  ever  any  man  did  give  unto  Christ  so  much  as  one 
groat ;  but  the  women  followed  Him,  and  ministered  to 
Him  of  their  substance.  'Twas  a  woman  that  washed 
His  feet  with  tears,  and  a  woman  that  anointed  His 
body  to  the  burial.  They  were  women  that  wept  when 
He  was  going  to  the  cross,  and  women  that  followed 
Him  from  the  cross,  and  that  sat  by  His  sepulchre, 
when  He  was  buried.  They  were  women  that  were 
first  with  Him  at  His  resurrection-morn,  and  women  that 
brought  tidings  first  to  His  disciples  that  He  was  risen 
from  the  dead.  Women  therefore  are  highly  favoured, 
and  show  by  these  things,  that  they  are  sharers  with  us  in 
the  grace  of  life. 

Now  the   cook   sent   up   to   signify  that    supper   was 
almost   ready,  and   sent   one  to   lay   the 
cloth,  the  trenchers,  and  to  set  the  salt 
and  bread  in  order. 

Then  said  Matthew,  The  sight  of  this  cloth,  and  of 
this  forerunner  of  the  supper,  begetteth  in  me  a  greater 
appetite  to  my  food  than  I  had  before. 

270 


THE  SUPPER 

Gaius.      So   let   all   ministering   doctrines   to   thee  in 
this  life  beget  in  thee  a  greater  desire  to  sit  at  the  supper 
of  the  great  King  in  His  kingdom ;    for  all   preaching, 
books,  and  ordinances  here,  are  but  as  the     What  to  be 
laving  of  the  trenchers,  and  as  setting  of     gathered  from 

1111  j        •  i         lay  inr  of  the  board 

salt  upon  the  board,  when  compared  with  with  the  cloth 
the  feast  that  our  Lord  will  make  for  us  ^trenchers 
when  we  come  to  His  house. 

So  supper  came  up.  And  first  a  heave-shoulder  and  a 
wave-breast  were  set  on  the  table  before  them ;  to  show 
that  they  must  begin  their  meal  with  prayer  and  praise  to 
God.  The  heave-shoulder  David  lifted  his  heart  up  to 
God  with ;  and  with  the  wave-breast,  where  his  heart  lay, 
with  that  he  used  to  lean  upon  his  harp  when  he  played. 
These  two  dishes  were  very  fresh  and  good,  and  they  all 
ate  heartily  well  thereof. 

The  next  they  brought  up  was  a  bottle  of  wine,  as  red 
as  blood.  So  Gaius  said  to  them,  Drink  freely  ;  this  is  the 
juice  of  the  true  vine,  that  makes  glad  the  heart  of  God 
and  man.  So  they  drank  and  were  merry. 

The  next  was  a  dish  of  milk  well  crumbled ;  but  Gaius 
said,  Let  the  boys  have  that,  that  they 

7        A  dish  of  milk 

may  grow  thereby. 

Then  they  brought  up  in  course  a  dish  of  butter  and 
honey.     Then  said  Gaius,   Eat  freely  of     of  honey  and 
this,  for    this   is  good   to  cheer   up   and     Butter 
strengthen   your  judgments    and    understandings.      This 
was  our  Lord's  dish  when  He  was  a  child ;   Butter  and 
honey  shall  He  eat,  that  He  may  know  to  refuse  the  evil, 
and  choose  the  good. 

Then  they  brought  them  up  a  dish  of  apples,  and  they 
were  very  good-tasted  fruit.      Then  said 
Matthew,  May  we  eat  apples,  since  they 
were  such  by  and  with  which  the  serpent  beguiled  our 
first  mother  ? 

Then  said  Gaius: 

Apples  were  they  with  which  we  were  beguiled; 
Yet  sin,  not  apples,  hath  our  souls  defiled  : 

271 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Apples  forbid,  if  ate,  corrupt  the  blood  ; 
To  eat  such,  when  commanded,  does  us  good: 
Drink  of  His  flagons  then,  thou  Church,  His  dove, 
And  eat  His  apples,  who  art  sick  of  love. 

Then  said  Matthew,  I  made  the  scruple,  because  I  a 
while  since  was  sick  with  eating  of  fruit. 

Gaius.  Forbidden  fruit  will  make  you  sick ;  but  not 
what  our  Lord  has  tolerated. 

While  they  were  thus  talking,  they  were  presented  with 

another   dish,  and  'twas  a  dish  of  nuts. 

Then  said  some  at  the  table,  Nuts  spoil 

tender  teeth,  especially  the  teeth  of  thechildren  :   which 

when  Gaius  heard,  he  said : — 

Hard  texts  are  nuts  (I  will  not  call  them  cheaters), 
Whose  shells  do  keep  their  kernels  from  the  eaters ; 
Ope  then  the  shells,  and  you  shall  have  the  meat ; 
They  here  are  brought  for  you  to  crack  and  eat. 

Then  were  they  very  merry,  and  sat  at  the  table  a  long 
time,  talking  of  many  things.  Then  said  the  old  gentleman, 
My  good  landlord,  while  we  are  cracking  your  nuts,  if 
you  please,  do  you  open  this  riddle: 

A  riddle  put  forth      -A-  man  there  was,  though  some  did  count  him  mad, 
by  old  Honest  The  more  he  cast  away,  the  more  he  had. 

Then  all  gave  good  heed,  wondering  what  good  Gaius 
would  say  ;  so  he  sat  still  a  while,  and  then  thus  replied: 

.  He  that  bestows  his  goods  upon  the  poor, 

Shall  have  as  much  again,  and  ten  times  more. 

Then  said  Joseph,  I  dare  say,  sir,  I  did 
not  think  you  could  a  found  it  out. 

Oh!  said  Gaius,  I  have  been  trained  up  in  this  way  a 
great  while :  nothing  teaches  like  experience.  I  have 
learned  of  my  Lord  to  be  kind,  and  have  found  by  ex- 
perience that  I  have  gained  thereby.  There  is  that 
scattereth,  yet  increaseth  •,  and  there  is  that  with- 
holdeth  more  than  is  meet,  but  it  tendeth  to  poverty. 
There  is  that  maketh  himself  rich,  yet  hath  nothing : 
there  is  that  maketh  himself  poor,  yet  hath  great 
riches. 

272 


MR  GREAT-HEART'S  RIDDLE 

Then  Samuel  whispered  to  Christiana,  his  mother,  and 
said,  Mother,  this  is  a  very  good  man's  house ;  let  us  stay 
here  a  good  while,  and  let  my  brother  Matthew  be  married 
here  to  Mercy,  before  we  go  any  further.  The  which 
Gaius,  the  host,  overhearing,  said,  With  a  very  good  will, 
my  child.  So  they  stayed  there  more  than  a  month,  and 
Mercy  was  given  to  Matthew  to  wife.  Matthew  and  Mercy 
While  they  stayed  here,  Mercy,  as  her  custom  are  Carried 
was, would  be  making  coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the  poor, 
by  which  she  brought  up  a  very  good  report  upon  pilgrims. 

But  to  return  again  to  our  story.    After  supper,  the  lads 
desired  a  bed,  for  that  they  were  weary    The  boys  ^o  to  bed, 
with  travelling.     Then  Gaius  called  to    the  rest  sit  up 
show  them  their  chamber;  but  said  Mercy,  I  will  have,  them 
to  bed.    So  she  had  them  to  bed,  and  they  slept  well :  but 
the  rest  sat  up  all  night ;  for  Gaius  and  they  were  such 
suitable  company,  that  they  could  not  tell  how  to  part. 
Then  after  much  talk  of  their  Lord,  themselves,  and  their 
journey,  old  Mr  Honest,  he  that  put  forth 

.Vji  j        TM  .j  Old  Honest  nods 

the   riddle,  began   to   nod.     Then   said 
Great-heart,  What,  sir,  you  begin  to  be  drowsy ;  come, 
rub  up,  now  here's  a  riddle  for  you.    Then  said  Mr  Honest, 
Let's  hear  it.     Then  said  Mr  Great-heart : 

He  that  will  kill,  must  first  be  overcome  :  .     .... 

Who  live  abroad  would,  first  must  die  at  home. 

Ha !  said  Mr  Honest,  it  is  a  hard  one  ;  hard  to  expound, 
and  harder  to  practise.  But,  come,  landlord,  said  he,  I 
will,  if  you  please,  leave  my  part  to  you ;  do  you  expound 
it,  and  I  will  hear  what  you  say. 

No,  said  Gaius,  'twas  put  to  you,  and  'tis  expected  that 
you  should  answer  it.  Then  said  the  old  gentleman  : 

He  first  by  grace  must  conquered  be, 

That  sin  would  mortify :  The  riddle 

And  who  that  lives  would  convince  me,  opeued 

Unto  himself  must  die. 

It  is  right,  said  Gaius ;  good  doctrine  and  experience  teach 
this.  For  first,  until  grace  displays  itself,  and  overcomes 
the  soul  with  its  glory,  it  is  altogether  without  heart  to 

273  § 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

oppose  sin.  Besides,  if  sin  is  Satan's  cords,  by  which  the 
soul  lies  bound,  how  should  it  make  resistance  before  it  is 
loosed  from  that  infirmity  ?  Secondly,  Nor  will  any  that 
knows  either  reason  or  grace,  believe  that  such  a  man  can 
be  a  living  monument  of  grace,  that  is  a  slave  to  his  own 
corruption.  And  now  it  comes  in  my  mind,  I  will  tell  you 
A  question  worth  a  Stol7  worth  the  hearing.  There  were 
the  minding  two  men  that  went  on  pilgrimage  ;  the 

one  began  when  he  was  young,  the  other  when  he  was  old. 
The  young  man  had  strong  corruptions  to  grapple  with ; 
the  old  man's  were  decayed  with  the  decays  of  nature. 
The  young  man  trod  his  steps  as  even  as  did  the  old  one, 
and  was  every  way  as  light  as  he.  Who  now,  or  which  of 
them,  had  their  graces  shining  clearest,  since  both  seemed 
to  be  alike? 

Hon.     The  young  man's,  doubtless.     For  that  which 
heads    it    against    the    greatest    opposi- 

A  comparison  .  .  •,  .  ,          .      . 

tion,  gives  best  demonstration  that  it  is 
strongest;  especially  when  it  also  holdeth  pace  with  that 
that  meets  not  with  half  so  much,  as  to  be  sure  old  age 
does  not.  Besides,  I  have  observed  that  old  men  have 

blessed   themselves   with    this   mistake ; 

namely,  taking  the  decays  of  nature  for 
a  gracious  conquest  over  corruption,  and  so  have  been  apt 
to  beguile  themselves.  Indeed,  old  men  that  are  gracious 
are  best  able  to  give  advice  to  them  that  are  young, 
because  they  have  seen  most  of  the  emptiness  of  things : 
but  yet,  for  an  old  and  a  young  man  to  set  out  both 
together,  the  young  one  has  the  advantage  of  the  fairest 
discovery  of  a  work  of  grace  within  him,  though  the  old 
man's  corruptions  are  naturally  the  weakest.  Thus  they 
sat  talking  till  break  of  day. 

Now  when  the  family  were  up,  Christiana  bid  her  son 

James  that  he  should  read  a  chapter ;  so 

he  read  the  53rd  of  Isaiah.  .When  he 
had  done,  Mr  Honest  asked  why  it  was  said  that  the 
Saviour  is  said  to  come  out  of  a  dry  ground ;  and  also  that 
He  had  no  form  nor  comeliness  in  Him. 

274 


QREAT-HflART    AND    MR    HONEST   AT   GAIUS'S   HOUSE 

"  Hai   '  said  Mr  Honest,  "  it  is  a  hard  one;  Hard  to  expound,  and 

harder  to  practise.1" 


GIANT  SLAY-GOOD 

Great.  Then  said  Mr  Great -heart,  To  the  first  I 
answer,  Because  the  church  of  the  Jews,  of  which  Christ 
came,  had  then  lost  almost  all  the  sap  and  spirit  of  religion. 
To  the  second  I  say,  The  words  are  spoken  in  the  person 
of  the  unbelievers,  who,  because  they  want  that  eye  that 
can  see  into  our  Prince's  heart,  therefore  they  judge  of 
Him  by  the  meanness  of  His  outside,  just  like  those  that 
know  not  that  precious  stones  are  covered  over  with  a 
homely  crust,  who,  when  they  have  found  one,  because  they 
know  not  what  they  have  found,  cast  it  away  again,  as  men 
do  a  common  stone. 

Well,  said   Gaius,  now  you  are  here,  and  since,  as  I 
know,   Mr    Great-heart  is  good  at  his  weapons,  if  you 
please,  after  we  have  refreshed  ourselves,  we  will  walk 
into  the  fields,  to  see  if  we  can  do  any  good.     About  a 
mile  from  hence  there  is  one  Slay-good,  a  giant,  that  doth 
much  annoy  the  King's  highway  in  these     Giant  Slay.good 
parts  ;  and  I  know  whereabout  his  haunt     assaulted  and 
is.     He  is  master  of  a  number  of  thieves  : 
'twould  be  well  if  we  could  clear  these  parts  of  him.     So 
they  consented  and  went ;  Mr  Great-heart  with  his  sword, 
helmet,  and  shield ;  and  the  rest  with  spears  and  staves. 

When  they  came  to   the  place  where  he   was,  they 
found   him  with  one  Feeble-mind  in  his 
hands,  whom  his  servants  had  brought  unto     Sth^on^Feebie- 
him,  having  taken  him  in  the  way.     Now     mind  in  his 

i.  . /r  r  i  •  •  i  hand 

the  giant  was  rifling  of  him,  with  a  purpose 

after  that  to  pick  his  bones  5  for  he  was  of  the  nature  of 

flesh-eaters. 

Well,  so  soon  as  he  saw  Mr  Great-heart  and  his  friends 
at  the  mouth  of  his  cave,  with  their  weapons,  he  demanded 
what  they  wanted. 

Great.  We  want  thee;  for  we  are  come  to  revenge 
the  quarrel  of  the  many  that  thou  hast  slain  of  the  pilgrims, 
when  thou  hast  dragged  them  out  of  the  King's  highway : 
wherefore  come  out  of  thy  cave.  So  he  armed  himself  and 
came  out,  and  to  a  battle  they  went,  and  fought  for  above 
an  hour,  and  then  stood  still  to  take  wind. 

275 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Slay.  Then  said  the  giant,  Why  are  you  here  on  my 
ground  ? 

Great.  To  revenge  the  blood  of  pilgrims,  as  I  also  told 
thee  before.  So  they  went  to  it  again,  and  the  giant  made 
Mr  Great-heart  give  back :  but  he  came  up  again,  and  in 
Feeble-mind  ^e  greatness  °f  n^s  mind  he  let  fly  with 

rescued  from  the  such  stoutness  at  the  giant's  head  and  sides, 
that  he  made  him  let  his  weapon  fall  out  of 
his  hand.  So  he  smote  him,  and  slew  him,  and  cut  off  his 
head,  and  brought  it  away  to  the  inn.  He  also  took  Feeble- 
mind  the  pilgrim,  and  brought  him  with  him  to  his  lodgings. 
When  they  were  come  home,  they  showed  his  head  to  the 
family,  and  set  it  up  as  they  had  done  others  before,  for  a 
terror  to  those  that  should  attempt  to  do  as  he  hereafter. 

Then  they  asked  Mr  Feeble-mind  how  he  fell  into  his 
hands. 

Feeble.  Then  said  the  poor  man,  I  am  a  sickly  man, 
as  you  see :  and  because  death  did  usually  once  a  day 

How  Feeble-mind       knOck  at  mV  d°Or»  I  thought  J  should  never 

came  to  be  a  be  well  at  home  ;  so  I  betook  myself  to  a 

pilgrim's  life,  and  have  travelled  hither 
from  the  town  of  Uncertain,  where  I  and  my  father  were 
born.  I  am  a  man  of  no  strength  at  all  of  body,  nor  yet 
of  mind,  but  would,  if  I  could,  though  I  can  but  crawl, 
spend  my  life  in  the  pilgrim's  way.  When  I  came  at  the 
gate  that  is  at  the  head  of  the  way,  the  Lord  of  that  place 
did  entertain  me  freely  ;  neither  objected  He  against  my 
weakly  looks,  nor  against  my  feeble  mind ;  but  gave  me 
such  things  that  were  necessary  for  my  journey,  and  bid 
me  hope  to  the  end.  When  I  came  to  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter,  I  received  much  kindness  there  :  and  because 
the  Hill  Difficulty  was  judged  too  hard  for  me,  I  was 
carried  up  that  by  one  of  his  servants.  Indeed,  I  have 
found  much  relief  from  pilgrims,  though  none  were 
willing  to  go  so  softly  as  I  am  forced  to  do :  yet  still 
as  they  came  on,  they  bid  me  be  of  good  cheer,  and 
said,  that  it  was  the  will  of  their  Lord  that  comfort  should 
be  given  to  the  feeble-minded,  and  so  went  on  their  own 

276 


MR  FEEBLE-MIND 

pace.  When  I  was  come  up  to  Assault  Lane,  then  this  giant 
met  with  me,  and  bid  me  prepare  for  an  encounter.  But, 
alas  !  feeble  one  that  I  was,  I  had  more  need  of  a  cordial ; 
so  he  came  up  and  took  me.  I  conceited  he  should  not 
kill  me.  Also  when  he  had  got  me  into  his  den,  since  I 
went  not  with  him  willingly,  I  believed  I  should  come  out 
alive  again  ;  for  I  have  heard,  that  not  any 
pilgrim  that  is  taken  captive  by  violent 
hands,  if  he  keeps  heart-whole  towards  his  Master,  is,  by 
the  laws  of  providence  to  die  by  the  hand  of  the  enemy. 
Robbed  I  looked  to  be,  and  robbed  to  be  sure  I  am ;  but 
I  am,  as  you  see,  escaped  with  life,  for  the  which  I 
thank  my  King  as  author,  and  you  as  the  means.  Other 
brunts  I  also  look  for;  but  this  I  have  resolved  on, 
to  wit,  to  run  when  I  can.  to  go  when  I 

,      °  Mark  this! 

cannot  run,  and  to  creep  when  1  cannot 
go.     As  to  the  main,  I  thank  Him  that  loves  me,  I  am 
fixed ;  my  way  is  before  me,  my  mind  is  beyond  the  river 
that  has  no  bridge,  though  I  am,  as  you  see,  but  of  a 
feeble  mind. 

Hon.  Then  said  old  Mr  Honest,  Have  not  you  some 
time  ago  been  acquainted  with  one  Mr  Fearing,  a  pilgrim  ? 

Feeble.     Acquainted  with  him  !     Yes,  he  came  from 
the  town  of  Stupidity,  which  lieth  four  degrees  north- 
ward of  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  as  many  off  of  where 
I  was  born :  yet  we  were  well  acquainted,  for  indeed  he 
was  mine  uncle,  my  father's  brother.     He     Mr  Fearin     Mf 
and  I  have  been  much  of  a  temper:   he     Feebie-mSS's 
was  a  little  shorter  than  I,   but  yet  we     uncle 
were  much  of  a  complexion. 

Hon.     I  perceive  you  knew  him,  and  I  am  apt  to  believe 
also  that  you  were  related  one  to  another ; 
for  you  have  his  whitely  look,  a  cast  like     som^ofMrVcar- 
his  with  your   eye,   and   your   speech   is     {*s's  features 
much  alike. 

Feeble.  Most  have  said  so  that  have  known  us  both : 
and  besides,  what  I  have  read  in  him  I  have  for  the  most 
part  found  in  myself. 

277 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Gaius.  Come,  sir,  said  Gaius,  be  of  good  cheer ;  you 
Gaius  comforts  are  welcome  to  me  and  to  my  house.  And 
hhn  what  thou  hast  a  mind  to,  call  for  freely ; 

and  what  thou  wouldest  have  my  servants  do  for  thee,  they 
will  do  it  with  a  ready-mind. 

Feeble.  Then  said  Mr  Feeble-mind,  This  is  unexpected 
favour,  and  as  the  sun  shining  out  of  a  very  dark  cloud. 
Notice  to  be  taken  Did  Giant  Slay-good  intend  me  this  favour 
of  Providence  when  he  stopped  me,  and  resolved  to  let 

me  go  no  further  ?  Did  he  intend,  that  after  he  had  rifled 
my  pockets,  I  should  go  to  Gaius  mine  host  ?  Yet  so  it  is. 

Now  just  as  Mr  Feeble-mind  and  Gaius  were  thus  in 

talk,  there  comes  one  running,  and  called  at 

™-nrf|hht°wasne        the  door,  and  told,  That  about  a  mile  and 

boaitnandathunder"  a  kalf  °^  tkere  was  one  Mr  Not-right,  a 
Mr  Feeble-mind's  pilgrim,  struck  dead  upon  the  place  where 

he  was,  with  a  thunderbolt. 

Feeble.  Alas  !  said  Mr  Feeble-mind,  is  he  slain  ?  He 
overtook  me  some  days  before  I  came  so  far  as  hither,  and 
would  be  my  company-keeper.  He  also  was  with  me 
when  Slay-good  the  giant  took  me,  but  he  was  nimble  of 
his  heels,  and  escaped :  but  it  seems  he  escaped  to  die,  and 
I  was  took  to  live. 

What  one  would  think  doth  seek  to  slay  outright, 

Ofttimes  delivers  from  the  saddest  plight. 

That  very  Providence  whose  face  is  death, 

Doth  ofttimes  to  the  lowly  life  bequeath. 

I  taken  was,  he  did  escape  and  flee; 

Hands  crossed  give  death  to  him  and  life  to  me. 

Now  about  this  time  Matthew  and  Mercy  were  married ; 
also  Gaius  gave  his  daughter  Phebe  to  James,  Matthew's 
brother,  to  wife ;  after  which  time,  they  yet  stayed  above 
ten  days  at  Gaius's  house,  spending  their  time  and  the 
seasons  like  as  pilgrims  use  to  do. 

When  they  were  to  depart,  Gaius  made  them  a  feast, 

_          .  and   they   did   eat   and   drink,  and  were 

prepfre^ogo  merry.    Now  the  hour  was  come  that  they 

must  be  gone ;  wherefore  Mr  Great-heart 

called  for  a  reckoning.     But  Gaius  told  him,  that  at  his 

2;3 


LEAVING  GAIUS'S  HOUSE 

house  it  was  not  the  custom  of  pilgrims  to  pay  for  their 
entertainment.  He  boarded  them  by  the  year,  but  looked 
for  his  pay  from  the  Good  Samaritan,  who  had  promised 
him,  at  His  return,  whatsoever  charge  he  was  at  with  them, 
faithfully  to  repay  him.  Then  said  Mr  Great-heart  to 
him : 

Great.  Beloved,  thou  doest  faithfully,  whatsoever  thou 
dost  to  the  brethren,  and  to  strangers, 

.  r     t          i       •  How  they  greet 

which  have  borne  witness  or  thy  charity     one  another  at 
before  the  church:   whom  if  thou  bring     Partin£ 
forward  on  their  journey  after  a  godly  sort,  thou  shalt 
do  well.     Then  Gaius  took  his  leave  of     Gaius-s  last  kind  ' 
them  all,  and  of  his  children,  and  particu-     ness  to  Feebie- 
larly  of  Mr  Feeble-mind.     He  also  gave 
him  something  to  drink  by  the  way. 

Now  Mr  Feeble-mind,  when  they  were  going  out  of 
the  door,  made  as  if  he  intended  to  linger.  The  which 
when  Mr  Great-heart  espied,  he  said,  Come,  Mr  Feeble- 
mind,  pray  do  you  go  along  with  us;  I  will  be  your 
conductor,  and  you  shall  fare  as  the  rest. 

Feeble.     Alas !     I  want  a  suitable  companion.      You 
are  all  lusty  and  strong,  but  I,  as  you  see,  am  weak ;  I 
choose  therefore  rather  to  come  behind,     Feeble-mind  for 
lest,  by  reason  of  my  many  infirmities,  I     going  behind 
should  be  both  a  burden  to  myself  and  to  you.     I  am,  as  I 
said,  a  man   of  a  weak   and   feeble  mind,  and   shall   be 
offended  and  made  weak  at  that  which  others  can  bear.     I 
shall  like  no  laughing ;  I  shall  like  no  gay 

T     i     1 1    i  •  i  r     ,  ,  &   J        His  excuse  for  it 

attire ;  I  shall  like  no  unprofitable  ques- 
tions. Nay,  I  am  so  weak  a  man  as  to  be  offended  with  that 
which  others  have  a  liberty  to  do.  I  do  not  yet  know  all  the 
truth :  I  am  a  very  ignorant  Christian  man.  Sometimes,  if  I 
hear  any  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  it  troubles  me,  because  I  cannot 
do  so  too.  It  is  with  me  as  it  is  with  a  weak  man  among  the 
strong,  or  as  with  a  sick  man  among  the  healthy,  or  as  a 
lamp  despised ;  He  that  is  ready  to  slip  with  his  feet  is  as 
a  lamp  despised  in  the  thought  of  him  that  is  at  ease ;  so 
that  I  know  not  what  to  do. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Great.  But,  brother,  said  Mr  Great-heart,  I  have  it 
Great-heart's  com-  'm  commission  to  comfort  the  feeble- 
mission  minded,  and  to  support  the  weak.  You 
must  needs  go  along  with  us ;  we  will  wait  for  you  ;  we 
A  .  .  will  lend  you  our  help  ;  we  will  deny  our- 

A  Christian  spirit  rj  L.  i_      r          .    .    J     • 

selves  or  some  things,  both  opimonative 
and  practical,  for  your  sake  ;  we  will  not  enter  into  doubt- 
ful disputations  before  you  j  we  will  be  made  all  things  to 
you,  rather  than  you  shall  be  left  behind. 

Now  all  this  while  they  were  at  Gaius's  door  •,  and 
behold,  as  they  were  thus  in  the  heat  of  their  discourse, 
Mr  Ready-to-halt  came  by,  with  his  crutches  in  his 
Promises  hand,  and  he  also  was  going  on  pil- 

grimage. 

Feeble.     Then  said  Mr  Feeble-mind  to  him,  Man,  how 

earnest  thou  hither  ?    I  was  but  just  now  complaining  that 

I  had  not  a  suitable  companion,  but  thou 

Feeble-mind   g-lad  ..  .r,  iTr   , 

to  see  Ready-to-  art  according  to  my  wish.  Welcome, 
welcome,  good  Mr  Ready-to-halt,  I  hope 
thee  and  I  may  be  some  help. 

Ready.  I  shall  be  glad  of  thy  company,  said  the 
other;  and,  good  Mr  Feeble-mind,  rather  than  we  will 
part,  since  we  are  thus  happily  met,  I  will  lend  thee  one 
of  my  crutches. 

Feeble.  Nay,  said  he,  though  I  thank  thee  for  thy  good 
will,  I  am  not  inclined  to  halt  before  I  am  lame.  Howbeit, 
I  think,  when  occasion  is,  it  may  help  me  against  a  dog. 

Ready.  If  either  myself  or  my  crutches  can  do  thee  a 
pleasure,  we  are  both  at  thy  command,  good  Mr  Feeble-mind. 

Thus  therefore  they  went  on.  Mr  Great-heart  and 
Mr  Honest  went  before,  Christiana  and  her  children  went 
next,  and  Mr  Feeble-mind  and  Mr  Ready-to-halt  came 
behind,  with  his  crutches.  Then  said  Mr  Honest, 

Hon.     Pray,  sir,  now  we  are  upon  the  road,  tell  us 

some  profitable  things  of  some  that  have 
New  talk  , &  r 

gone  on  pilgrimage  before  us. 

Great.  With  a  good  will.  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
how  Christian  of  old  did  meet  with  Apollyon  in  the  Valley 

280 


TALK  OF  THE  PILGRIMS 

of  Humiliation,  and  also  what  hard  work  he  had  to  go 
through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  Also  I 
think  you  cannot  but  have  heard  how  Faithful  was  put  to 
it  with  Madam  Wanton,  with  Adam  the  First,  with  one 
Discontent,  and  Shame ;  four  as  deceitful  villains  as  a  man 
can  meet  with  upon  the  road. 

Hon.  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  all  this  ;  but  indeed  good 
Faithful  was  hardest  put  to  it  with  Shame;  he  was  an 
unwearied  one. 

Great.  Ay ;  for,  as  the  pilgrim  well  said,  he  of  all 
men  had  the  wrong  name. 

Hon.  But  pray,  sir,  where  was  it  that  Christian  and 
Faithful  met  Talkative  ?  That  same  was  also  a  notable 
one. 

Great.  He  was  a  confident  fool  j  yet  many  follow  his  ways. 

Hon.     He  had  like  to  a  beguiled  Faithful. 

Great.  Ay,  but  Christian  put  him  into  a  way  quickly 
to  find  him  out. 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  at  the  place  where 
Evangelist  met  with  Christian  and  Faithful,  and'  prophesied 
to  them  of  what  should  befall  them  at  Vanity  Fair. 

Great.  Then  said  their  guide,  Hereabouts  did  Christian 
and  Faithful  meet  with  Evangelist,  who  prophesied  to  them 
of  what  troubles  they  should  meet  with  at  Vanity  Fair. 

Hon.  Say  you  so  ?  I  dare  say  it  was  a  hard  chapter 
that  then  he  read  unto  them. 

Great.  'Twas  so,  but  he  gave  them  encouragement 
withal.  But  what  do  we  talk  of  them  ?  They  were  a  couple 
of  lion-like  men  ;  they  had  set  their  faces  like  flints.  Don't 
you  remember  how  undaunted  they  were  when  they  stood 
before  the  judge  ? 

Hon.     "Well,  Faithful  bravely  suffered. 

Great.  So  he  did,  and  as  brave  things  came  on't ;  for 
Hopeful,  and  some  others,  as  the  story  relates  it,  were 
converted  by  his  death. 

Hon.  Well,  but  pray  go  on;  for  you  are  well  ac- 
quainted with  things. 

Great.  Above  all  that  Christian  met  with  after  he  had 
281 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

passed  through  Vanity  Fair,  one  By-ends  was  the  arch 
one. 

Hon.     By-ends  !  what  was  he  ? 

Great  A  very  arch-fellow,  a  downright  hypocrite  5 
one  that  would  be  religious,  which  way  ever  the  world 
went ;  but  so  cunning,  that  he  would  be  sure  neither  to  lose 
nor  suffer  for  it.  He  had  his  mode  of  religion  for  every 
fresh  occasion,  and  his  wife  was  as  good  at  it  as  he.  He 
would  turn  and  change  from  opinion  to  opinion ;  yea,  and 
plead  for  so  doing  too.  But  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  he 
came  to  an  ill  end  with  his  by-ends  ;  nor  did  I  ever  hear 
that  any  of  his  children  were  ever  of  any  esteem  with  any 
that  truly  feared  God. 

Now  by  this  time  they  were  come  within  sight  of  the 
town  of  Vanity,  where  Vanity  Fair  is  kept. 

They  are  come  J  ' 

within  sight  of  So  when  they  saw  that  they  were  so  near 
Vamty  Fair  ^  town>  tnev  consulted  with  one  another 

how  they  should  pass  through  the  town ;  and  some  said 
one  thing,  and  some  another.  At  last  Mr  Great-heart  said, 
I  have,  as  you  may  understand,  often  been  a  conductor  of 
pilgrims  through  this  town.  Now,  I  am  acquainted  with 
one  Mr  Mnason,  a  Cyprusian  by  nation,  an  old  disciple, 
at  whose  house  we  may  lodge.  If  you  think  good,  said 
he,  we  will  turn  in  there. 

Content,  said  old  Honest ;  Content,  said  Christiana ; 
Content,  said  Mr  Feeble-mind  j  and  so  they  said  all.  Now 
you  must  think  it  was  even-tide  by  that  they  got  to  the 
outside  of  the  town ;  but  Mr  Great-heart  knew  the  way 
to  the  old  man's  house.  So  thither  they  came ;  and  he 
called  at  the  door,  and  the  old  man  within  knew  his 
tongue  so  soon  as  ever  he  heard  it ;  so  he  opened, 
_,  and  they  all  came  in.  Then  said  Mnason 

They  enter  into  one     .     .     .     J       TT          r       , 

Mr  Mnason's  to        their  host,  Hov/  far  have  ye  come  to-day  : 
So  they  said,  From  the  house  of  Gaius  our 
friend.    I  promise  you,  said  he,  you  have  gone  a  good  stitch. 
You  may  well  be  aweary  ;  sit  down.     So  they  sat  down. 

Great.  Then  said  their  guide,  Come,  what  cheer,  sirs  ? 
I  dare  say  you  are  welcome  to  my  friend. 

282 


MNASON'S  FRIENDS 

Mnas.  I  also,  said  Mr  Mnason,  do  bid  you  welcome ; 
and  whatever  you  want,  do  but  say,  and  we  will  do  what 
we  can  to  get  it  for  you. 

Hon.  Our  great  want  a  while  since  was  harbour  and 
good  company,  and  now  I  hope  we  have  They  are  glad  of 

both,  entertainment 

Mnas.  For  harbour,  you  see  what  it  is  ;  but  for  good 
company,  that  will  appear  in  the  trial. 

Great.  Well,  said  Mr  Great-heart,  will  you  have  the 
pilgrims  up  into  their  lodging  ? 

Mnas.  I  will,  said  Mr  Mnason.  So  he  had  them  to 
their  respective  places  ;  and  also  showed  them  a  very  fair 
dining-room,  where  they  might  be,  and  sup  together,  until 
time  was  come  to  go  to  rest. 

Now  when  they  were  set  in  their  places,  and  were  a  little 
cheery  after  their  journey,  Mr  Honest  asked  his  landlord  if 
there  were  any  store  of  good  people  in  the  town. 

Mnas.  We  have  a  few  5  for  indeed  they  are  but  a  few, 
when  compared  with  them  on  the  other  side. 

Hon.  But  how  shall  we  do  to  see  some  of  them  ?  for 
the  sight  of  good  men  to  them  that  are 

.,      *?  .     i.,  i  .  They  desire  to  see 

going  on  pilgrimage,  is  like  to  the  appearing     some  of  the  good 
of  the  moon  and  the  stars  to  them  that  are     people 
sailing  upon  the  seas. 

Mnas.  Then  Mr  Mnason  stamped  with  his  foot,  and 
his  daughter  Grace  came  up.  So  he  said  unto  her,  Grace, 
go  you,  tell  my  friends,  Mr  Contrite,  Mr 

TT   i  */r    T  •        **    TV  i-  Some  sent  for 

Holy-man,  Mr  Love-saint,  Mr  Dare-not-lie, 
and  Mr  Penitent,  that  I  have  a  friend  or  two  at  my  house 
that  have  a  mind  this  evening  to  see  them.      So  Grace 
went  to  call  them,  and  they  came ;  and  after  salutation 
made,  they  sat  down  together  at  the  table. 

Then  said  Mr  Mnason  their  landlord,  My  neighbours,  I 
have,  as  you  see,  a  company  of  strangers  come  to  my 
house ;  they  are  pilgrims :  they  come  from  afar,  and  are 
going  to  Mount  Zion.  But  who,  quoth  he,  do  you  think 
this  is  ?  pointing  with  his  finger  to  Christiana.  It  is  Chris- 
tiana the  wife  of  Christian,  that  famous  pilgrim,  who  with 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Faithful  his  brother  were  so  shamefully  handled  in  our  town. 
At  that  they  stood  amazed,  saying,  "We  little  thought  to  see 
Christiana  when  Grace  came  to  call  us  j  wherefore  this  is 
a  very  comfortable  surprise.  They  then  asked  her  of  her 
welfare,  and  if  these  young  men  were  her  husband's  sons. 
And  when  she  had  told  them  they  were,  they  said,  The 
King  whom  you  love  and  serve  make  you  as  your  father, 
and  bring  you  where  he  is  in  peace. 

Sometaikbetwixt  Hon-  Then  Mr  Honest(when  they  were 
Mr  Honest  and  all  sat  down)  asked  Mr  Contrite  and  the 

Mr  Contrite  .1  i     . 

rest,  in  what  posture  their  town  was  at 
present. 

Contr.  You  may  be  sure  we  are  full  of  hurry  in  fair 
time.  'Tis  hard  keeping  our  hearts  and  spirits  in  any  good 
The  fruit  of  watch-  order  when  we  are  in  a  cumbered  condition. 
fulness  He  that  lives  in  such  a  place  as  this  is,  and 

that  has  to  do  with  such  as  we  have,  has  need  of  an  item 
to  caution  him  to  take  heed  every  moment  of  the  day. 

Hon.     But  how  are  your  neighbours  for  quietness  ? 

Contr.  They  are  much  more  moderate  now  than 
formerly.  You  know  how  Christian  and 

Persecution  not  so       _,   .   .  r  {  c. 

hot  at  Vanity  Jbaithrul  were  used  at  our  town;  but  or  late, 

I  say,  they  have  been  far  more  moderate.  I 
think  the  blood  of  Faithful  lieth  with  load  upon  them  till 
now  5  for  since  they  burned  him,  they  have  been  ashamed  to 
burn  any  more.  In  those  days  we  were  afraid  to  walk  the 
streets,  but  now  we  can  show  our  heads.  Then  the  name 
of  a  professor  was  odious ;  now,  specially  in  some  parts 
of  our  town  (for  you  know  our  town  is  large),  religion  is 
counted  honourable.  Then  said  Mr  Contrite  to  them, 
Pray  how  fareth  it  with  you  in  your  pilgrimage  ?  how 
stands  the  country  affected  towards  you  ? 

Hon.  It  happens  to  us,  as  it  happeneth  to  wayfaring 
men  ; — sometimes  our  way  is  clean,  sometimes  foul ;  some- 
times up  hill,  sometimes  down  hill  -,  we  are  seldom  at  a 
certainty.  The  wind  is  not  always  on  our  backs,  nor  is 
every  one  a  friend  that  we  meet  with  in  the  way.  We 
have  met  with  some  notable  rubs  already,  and  what  are 

284 


RUBS  OF  THE  PILGRIMS 

yet  behind  we  know  not ;  but  for  the  most  part  we  find  it 
true  that  has  been  talked  of  of  old,  A  good  man  must 
suffer  trouble. 

Contr.  You  talk  of  rubs ;  what  rubs  have  you  met 
withal  ? 

Hon.  Nay,  ask  Mr  Great-heart  our  guide ;  for  he  can 
give  the  best  account  of  that. 

Great.  We  have  been  beset  three  or  four  times 
already.  First,  Christiana  and  her  children  were  beset  with 
two  ruffians,  that  they  feared  would  a  took  away  their  lives. 
We  were  beset  with  Giant  Bloodyman,  Giant  Maul,  and 
Giant  Slay-good.  Indeed,  we  did  rather  beset  the  last  than 
were  beset  of  him.  And  thus  it  was  :  after  we  had  been 
some  time  at  the  house  of  Gaius  mine  host,  and  of  the 
whole  church,  we  were  minded  upon  a  time  to  take  our 
weapons  with  us,  and  go  see  if  we  could  light  upon  any 
of  those  that  were  enemies  to  pilgrims  ;  for  we  heard  that 
there  was  a  notable  one  thereabouts.  Now  Gaius  knew 
his  haunt  better  than  I,  because  he  dwelt  thereabout.  So 
we  looked,  and  looked,  till  at  last  we  discerned  the  mouth 
of  his  cave :  then  we  were  glad,  and  plucked  up  our 
spirits.  So  we  approached  up  to  his  den ;  and  lo,  when 
we  came  there,  he  had  dragged,  by  mere  force,  into  his 
net,  this  poor  man,  Mr  Feeble-mind,  and  was  about  to 
bring  him  to  his  end.  But  when  he  saw  us,  supposing,  as 
we  thought,  he  had  had  another  prey,  he  left  the  poor 
man  in  his  hole,  and  came  out.  So  we  fell  to  it  full  sore, 
and  he  lustily  laid  about  him ;  but,  in  conclusion,  he  was 
brought  down  to  the  ground,  and  his  head  cut  off, 
and  set  up  by  the  way-side,  for  a  terror  to  such  as  should 
after  practise  such  ungodliness.  That  I  tell  you  the 
truth,  here  is  the  man  himself  to  affirm  it,  who  was  as  a 
lamb  taken  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion. 

Feeble.  Then  said  Mr  Feeble-mind,  I  found  this 
true,  to  my  cost  and  comfort :  to  my  cost,  when  he 
threatened  to  pick  my  bones  every  moment  ;  and  to  my 
comfort,  when  I  saw  Mr  Great-heart  and  his  friends, 
•with  their  weapons,  approach  so  near  for  my  deliverance. 

285 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Holy.     Then  said  Mr  Holy-man,  There  are  two  things 

Mr  Holy-man's  tnat  tne7  nave  neec^   to   ^6   pOSSCSSed  with 

sPeech  that  go  on  pilgrimage ;  courage,  and  an 

unspotted  life.  If  they  have  not  courage,  they  can  never 
hold  on  their  way ;  and  if  their  lives  be  loose,  they  will 
make  the  very  name  of  a  pilgrim  stink. 

Love.  Then  said  Mr  Love-saint,  I  hope  this  caution 
Mr  Love-saint's  'IS  not  needful  amongst  you.  But  truly 
sPeech  there  are  many  that  go  upon  the  road, 

that  rather  declare  themselves  strangers  to  pilgrimage, 
than  strangers  and  pilgrims  in  the  earth. 

Dare.  Then  said  Mr  Dare-not-lie,  'Tis  true.  They 
Mr  Dare-not-lie,  neither  have  the  pilgrim's  weed,  nor  the 
his  speech  pilgrim's  courage  ;  they  go  not  uprightly, 

but  all  awry  with  their  feet ;  one  shoe  goes  inward, 
another  outward  ;  and  their  hosen  out  behind ;  there  a 
rag,  and  there  a  rent,  to  the  disparagement  of  their  Lord. 

Pen.  These  things,  said  Mr  Penitent,  they  ought  to  be 
Mr  Penitent,  hia  troubled  for  ;  nor  are  the  pilgrims  like  to 
sPeech  have  that  grace  put  upon  them  and  their 

Pilgrim's  Progress  as  they  desire,  until  the  way  is  cleared 
of  such  spots  and  blemishes.  Thus  they  sat  talking  and 
spending  the  time  until  supper  was  set  upon  the  table, 
unto  which  they  went,  and  refreshed  their  weary  bodies, 
so  they  went  to  rest. 

Now  they  staid  in  this  fair  a  great  while  at  the  house  of 
this  Mr  Mnason,  who  in  process  of  time  gave  his  daughter 
Grace  unto  Samuel,  Christiana's  son,  to  wife,  and  his 
daughter  Martha  to  Joseph. 

The  time,  as  I  said,  that  they  lay  here,  was  long, 
for  it  was  not  now  as  in  former  times.  Wherefore  the 
pilgrims  grew  acquainted  with  many  of  the  good  people 
of  the  town,  and  did  them  what  service  they  could. 
Mercy,  as  she  was  wont,  laboured  much  for  the  poor: 
wherefore  their  bellies  and  backs  blessed  her,  and  she  was 
there  an  ornament  to  her  profession.  And,  to  say  the  truth, 
for  Grace,  Phebe,  and  Martha,  they  were  all  of  a  very  good 
nature,  and  did  much  good  in  their  place.  They  were  also 

286 


A  MONSTER 

all  of  them  very  fruitful ;  so  that  Christian's  name,  as  was 
said  before,  was  like  to  live  in  the  world. 

While  they  lay  here,  there  came  a  monster  out  of  the 
woods,  and  slew  many  of  the  people  of 

T  r   ,     .         A  monster 

the  town.    It  would  also  carry  away  their 
children,  and  teach  them  to  suck  its  whelps.    Now  no  man 
in  the  town  durst  so  much  as  face  this  monster,  but  all  men 
fled  when  they  heard  of  the  noise  of  his  coming. 

The  monster  was  like  unto  no  one  beast  upon  the  earth. 
Its  body  was  like  a  dragon,  and  it  had 
seven   heads   and   ten   horns.      It   made 
great  havoc  of  children,  and  yet  it  was  governed  by  a 
woman.     This  monster  propounded  con- 

j.  .  ji  ij       His  nature 

ditions  to  men ;  and  such  men  as  loved 

their  lives  more  than  their  souls  accepted  those  conditions. 

So  they  came  under. 

Now  this  Mr  Great-heart,  together  with  these  that  came 
to  visit  the  pilgrims  at  Mr  Mnason's  house,  entered  into  a 
covenant  to  go  and  engage  this  beast,  if  perhaps  they 
might  deliver  the  people  of  this  town  from  the  paws  and 
mouth  of  this  so  devouring  a  serpent. 

Then  did  Mr  Great-heart,  Mr  Contrite,  Mr  Holy-man, 
Mr  Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr  Penitent,  with  their  weapons,  go 
forth  to  meet  him.     Now  the  monster  at 
first  was  very  rampant,  and  looked  upon 
these  enemies  with  great  disdain ;  but  they  so  belaboured 
him,  being  sturdy  men  at  arms,  that  they  made  him  make 
a  retreat :  so  they  came  home  to  Mr  Mnason's  house  again. 

The  monster,  you  must  know,  had  his  certain  seasons 
to  come  out  in,  and  to  make  his  attempts  upon  the  children 
of  the  people  of  the  town.  Also  these  seasons  did  these 
valiant  worthies  watch  him  in,  and  did  still  continually 
assault  him;  insomuch  that  in  process  of  time  he  became  not 
only  wounded,  but  lame.  Also  he  has  not  made  that  havoc 
of  the  townsmen's  children  as  formerly  he  has  done ;  and 
it  is  verily  believed  by  some  that  this  beast  will  die  of  his 
wounds. 

This  therefore  made  Mr  Great-heart  and  his  fellows  of 

287 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

great  fame  in  this  town ;  so  that  many  of  the  people  that 
wanted  their  taste  of  things,  yet  had  a  reverent  esteem  and 
respect  for  them.  Upon  this  account  therefore  it  was  that 
these  pilgrims  got  not  much  hurt  here.  True,  there  were 
some  of  the  baser  sort,  that  could  see  no  more  than  a  mole, 
nor  understand  more  than  a  beast ;  these  had  no  reverence 
for  these  men,  nor  took  they  notice  of  their  valour  or 
adventures. 

Well,  the  time  drew  on  that  the  pilgrims  must  go  on 
their  way  j  wherefore  they  prepared  for  their  journey. 
They  sent  for  their  friends ;  they  conferred  with  them  ; 
they  had  some  time  set  apart  therein  to  commit  each  other 
to  the  protection  of  their  Prince.  There  were  again  that 
brought  them  of  such  things  as  they  had,  that  were  fit  for 
the  weak  and  the  strong,  for  the  women  and  the  men, 
and  so  laded  them  with  such  things  as  were  necessary. 
Then  they  set  forwards  on  their  way ;  and  their  friends 
accompanying  them  so  far  as  was  convenient,  they  again 
committed  each  other  to  the  protection  of  their  King,  and 
parted. 

They  therefore  that  were  of  the  pilgrims'  company 
went  on,  and  Mr  Great-heart  went  before  them.  Now 
the  women  and  children  being  weakly,  they  were  forced 
to  go  as  they  could  bear ;  by  this  means  Mr  Ready-to- 
halt  and  Mr  Feeble-mind  had  more  to  sympathize  with 
their  condition. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  townsmen,  and  when 
their  friends  had  bid  them  farewell,  they  quickly  came  to 
the  place  where  Faithful  was  put  to  death.  There  there- 
fore they  made  a  stand,  and  thanked  Him  that  had  enabled 
him  to  bear  his  cross  so  well ;  and  the  rather,  because 
they  now  found  that  they  had  a  benefit  by  such  a  manly 
suffering  as  his  was. 

They  went  on  therefore  after  this  a  good  way  further, 
talking  of  Christian  and  Faithful,  and  how  Hopeful  joined 
himself  to  Christian  after  that  Faithful  was  dead. 

Now  they  were  come  up  with  the  Hill  Lucre,  where  the 
silver  mine  was  which  took  Demas  ofF  from  his  pilgrimage, 

288 


BY-PATH  MEADOW 

and  into  which,  as  some  think,  By-ends  fell  and  perished'; 
wherefore  they  considered  that.  But  when  they  were 
come  to  the  old  monument  that  stood  over  against  the 
Hill  Lucre,  to  wit,  to  the  pillar  of  salt,  that  stood  also 
within  view  of  Sodom  and  its  stinking  lake,  they  marvelled, 
as  did  Christian  before,  that  men  of  that  knowledge  and 
ripeness  of  wit  as  they  were  should  be  so  blinded  as  to  turn 
aside  here.  Only  they  considered  again,  that  nature  is 
not  affected  with  the  harms  that  others  have  met  with, 
specially  if  that  thing  upon  which  they  look  has  an 
attracting  virtue  upon  the  foolish  eye. 

I  saw  now  that  they  went  on  till  they  came  at  the 
river  that  was  on  this  side  of  the  Delectable  Mountains ; 
— to  the  river  where  the  fine  trees  grow  on  both  sides, 
and  whose  leaves,  if  taken  inwardly,  are  good  against 
surfeits ;  where  the  meadows  are  green  all  the  year  long ; 
and  where  they  might  lie  down  safely. 

By  this  river  side,  in  the  meadow,  there  were  cotes 
and  folds  for  sheep,  a  house  built  for  the  nourishing 
and  bringing  up  of  those  lambs,  the  babes  of  those 
women  that  go  on  pilgrimage.  Also  there  was  here 
one  that  was  intrusted  with  them,  who  could  have  com- 
passion;  and  that  could  gather  these  lambs  with  his 
arm,  and  carry  them  in  his  bosom,  and  that  could  gently 
lead  those  that  were  with  young.  Now  to  the  care 
of  this  man  Christiana  admonished  her  four  daughters 
to  commit  their  little  ones,  that  by  these  waters  they 
might  be  housed,  harboured,  succoured,  and  nourished, 
and  that  none  of  them  might  be  lacking  in  time  to  come. 
This  man,  if  any  of  them  go  astray,  or  be  lost,  he  will 
bring  them  again ;  he  will  also  bind  up  that  which 
was  broken,  and  will  strengthen  them  that  are  sick. 
Here  they  will  never  want  meat,  and  drink,  and  clothing  ; 
here  they  will  be  kept  from  thieves  and  robbers ; 
for  this  man  will  die  before  one  of  those  committed 
to  his  trust  shall  be  lost.  Besides,  here  they  shall  be 
sure  to  have  good  nurture  and  admonition,  and  shall 
be  taught  to  walk  in  right  paths,  and  that  you 

289  T 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

know  is  a  favour  of  no  small  account.  Also  here,  as  you 
see,  are  delicate  waters,  pleasant  meadows,  dainty  flowers, 
variety  of  trees,  and  such  as  bear  wholesome  fruit ; — fruit, 
not  like  that  that  Matthew  ate  of,  that  fell  over  the 
wall  out  of  Beelzebub's  garden  ;  but  fruit  that  procureth 
health  where  there  is  none,  and  that  continueth  and 
increaseth  it  where  it  is.  So  they  were  content  to  commit 
their  little  ones  to  him  ;  and  that  which  was  also  an  en- 
couragement to  them  so  to  do,  was,  for  that  all  this  was 
to  be  at  the  charge  of  the  King,  and  so  was  an  hospital  to 
young  children  and  orphans. 

Now  they  went  on.  And  when  they  were  come  to 
They  beinf  come  By-pa^h  Meadow,  to  the  stile  over  which 
to  By-path  stile,  Christian  went  with  his  fellow  Hopeful, 

have    a    mind    to  i  •  §  «        *-»•     w  * 

have  a  pluck  with  when  they  were  taken  by  Giant  Despair, 
and  put  into  Doubting  Castle,  they  sat 
down,  and  consulted  what  was  best  to  be  done :  to  wit, 
now  they  were  so  strong,  and  had  got  such  a  man  as 
Mr  Great-heart  for  their  conductor,  whether  they  had 
not  best  to  make  an  attempt  upon  the  giant,  demolish  his 
castle,  and  if  there  were  any  pilgrims  in  it,  to  set  them  at 
liberty,  before  they  went  any  further.  So  one  said  one 
thing,  and  another  said  the  contrary.  One  questioned  if 
it  was  lawful  to  go  upon  unconsecrated  ground ;  another 
said  they  might,  provided  their  end  was  good  ;  but  Mr 
Great-heart  said,  Though  that  assertion  offered  last 
cannot  be  universally  true,  yet  I  have  a  commandment  to 
resist  sin,  to  overcome  evil,  to  fight  the  good  fight  of 
faith :  and  I  pray,  with  whom  should  I  fight  this  good 
fight,  if  not  with  Giant  Despair  ?  I  will  therefore 
attempt  the  taking  away  of  his  life  and  the  demolishing  of 
Doubting  Castle.  Then  said  he,  Who  will  go  with 
me  ?  Then  said  old  Honest,  I  will.  And  so  will 
we  too,  said  Christiana's  four  sons,  Matthew,  Samuel, 
James,  and  Joseph ;  for  they  were  young  men  and 
strong.  So  they  left  the  women  in  the  road,  and  with 
them  Mr  Feeble-mind,  and  Mr  Ready-to-halt  with  his 
crutches,  to  be  their  guard,  until  they  came  back  5  for  in 

290 


GIANT  DESPAIR  KILLED 

that  place   though  Giant  Despair  dwelt  so  near,   they, 
keeping  in  the  road,  a  little  child  might  lead  them. 

So  Mr  Great-heart,  old  Honest,  and  the  four  young 
men,  went  to  go  up  to  Doubting  Castle,  to  look  for  Giant 
Despair.  When  they  came  at  the  castle  gate,  they 
knocked  for  entrance  with  an  unusual  noise.  At  that  the 
old  giant  comes  to  the  gate,  and  Diffidence  his  wife 
follows.  Then  said  he,  Who  and  what  is  he  that  is  so 
hardy,  as  after  this  manner  to  molest  the  Giant  Despair  ? 
Mr  Great-heart  replied,  It  is  I,  Great-heart,  one  of  the 
King  of  the  celestial  country's  conductors  of  pilgrims 
to  their  place ;  and  I  demand  of  thee  that  thou  open 
thy  gates  for  my  entrance :  prepare  thyself  also  to  fight, 
for  I  am  come  to  take  away  thy  head,  and  to  demolish 
Doubting  Castle. 

Now  Giant  Despair,  because  he  was  a  giant,  thought  no 
man  could  overcome  him :  and  again  Despair  has  over- 
thought  he,  Since  heretofore  I  have  made  come  angels 
a  conquest  of  angels,  shall  Great-heart  make  me  afraid  ? 
So  he  harnessed  himself,  and  went  out.  He  had  a  cap  of 
steel  upon  his  head,  a  breastplate  of  fire  girded  to  him,  and 
he  came  out  in  iron  shoes,  with  a  great  club  in  his  hand. 
Then  these  six  men  made  up  to  him,  and  beset  him  behind 
and  before:  also  when  Diffidence  the  giantess  came  up  to 
help  him,  old  Mr  Honest  cut  her  down  at  one  blow.  Then 
they  fought  for  their  lives,  and  Giant  Despair  was 
brought  down  to  the  ground,  but  was  very  pespair  is  loth  to 
loth  to  die.  He  struggled  hard,  and  had,  die 
as  they  say,  as  many  lives  as  a  cat ;  but  Great-heart  was 
his  death,  for  he  left  him  not  till  he  had  severed  his  head 
from  his  shoulders. 

Then  they  fell  to  demolishing  Doubting  Castle,  and  that 
you  know  might  with  ease  be  done,  since     Doubting  Castle 
Giant  Despair  was  dead.    They  were  seven     demolished 
days  in  destroying  of  that ;  and  in  it  of  pilgrims  they  found 
one  Mr  Despondency,  almost  starved  to  death,  and  one 
Much-afraid,  his  daughter :  these  two  they  saved  alive. 
But  it  would  a  made  you  a  wondered  to  have  seen  the  dead 

291 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

bodies  that  lay  here  and  there  in  the  castle  yard,  and  how- 
full  of  dead  men's  bones  the  dungeon  was. 

When  Mr  Great-heart  and  his  companions  had  per- 
formed this  exploit,  they  took  Mr  Despondency,  and  his 
daughter  Much-afraid,  into  their  protection  5  for  they  were 
honest  people,  though  they  were  prisoners  in  Doubting 
Castle  to  that  tyrant  Giant  Despair.  They,  therefore,  I  say, 
took  with  them  the  head  of  the  giant  (for  his  body  they 
had  buried  under  a  heap  of  stones),  and  down  to  the  road 
and  to  their  companions  they  came,  and  showed  them  what 
they  had  done.  Now  when  Feeble-mind  and  Ready-to-halt 
saw  that  it  was  the  head  of  Giant  Despair  indeed,  they 
_.  .  .  were  very  jocund  and  merry.  Now  Christi- 

They  have  music  •/-  j  u      i 

and  dancing  for  ana,  if  need  was,  could  play  upon  the  viol, 
J0y  ,  and  her  daughter  Mercy  upon  the  lute:  so 

since  they  were  so  merry  disposed,  she  played  them  a 
lesson,  and  Ready-to-halt  would  dance.  So  he  took  Despond- 
ency's daughter,  Much-afraid,  by  the  hand,  and  to  dancing 
they  went  in  the  road.  True,  he  could  not  dance  without 
one  crutch  in  his  hand,  but  I  promise  you,  he  footed  it  well : 
also  the  girl  was  to  be  commended,  for  she  answered  the 
music  handsomely. 

As  for  Mr  Despondency,  the  music  was  not  much  to 
him ;  he  was  for  feeding,  rather  than  dancing,  for  that  he 
was  almost  starved.  So  Christiana  gave  him  some  of  her 
bottle  of  spirits  for  present  relief,  and  then  prepared  him 
something  to  eat ;  and  in  little  time  the  old  gentleman 
came  to  himself,  and  began  to  be  finely  revived. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  when  all  these  things  were 
finished,  Mr  Great-heart  took  the  head  of  Giant  Despair, 
and  set  it  upon  a  pole  by  the  highway  side,  right  over 
against  the  pillar  that  Christian  erected  for  a  caution  to 
pilgrims  that  came  after,  to  take  heed  of  entering  into  his 
grounds. 

Then  he  writ  under  it  upon  a  marble  stone  these  verses 
following : — 

This  is  the  head  of  him,  whose  name  only 
In  former  times  did  pilgrims  terrify. 
292 


MR   DESFONDENCY  AND   HIS   DAUGHTER   MUCH-AFRAID 

They  found  one  Mr  Despondency,  almost  starved  to  death,  and  one 

Much-afraid,  his  daughter. 


THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS 

His  castle's  down,  and  Diffidence  his  wife 

Brave  Mr  Great-heart  has  bereft  of  life.  A  monument  of 

Despondency,  his  daughter  Much-afraid,  deliverance 

Great-heart  for  them  also  the  man  has  played. 

Who  hereof  doubts,  if  he'll  but  cast  his  eye 

Up  hither,  may  his  scruples  satisfy. 

This  head  also,  when  doubting  cripples  dance, 

Doth  show  from  fears  they  have  deliverance. 

When  these  men  had  thus  bravely  showed  themselves 
against  Doubting  Castle,  and  had  slain  Giant  Despair,  they 
went  forward,  and  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  Delect- 
able Mountains,  where  Christian  and  Hopeful  refreshed 
themselves  with  the  varieties  of  the  place.  They  also 
acquainted  themselves  with  the  Shepherds  there,  who 
welcomed  them,  as  they  had  done  Christian  before,  unto 
the  Delectable  Mountains. 

Now  the  Shepherds  seeing  so  great  a  train  follow  Mr 
Great-heart  (for  with  him  they  were  well  acquainted), 
they  said  unto  him,  Good  sir,  you  have  got  a  goodly 
company  here ;  pray  where  did  you  find  all  these  ? 

Then  Mr  Great-heart  replied  : — 

First,  here's  Christiana  and  her  train, 

Her  sons,  and  her  sons*  wives,  who  like  the  wain, 

Keep  by  the  pole,  and  do  by  compass  steer 

From  sin  to  grace,  else  they  had  not  been  here. 

Next  here's  old  Honest  come  on  pilgrimage, 

Ready-to-halt  too,  who  I  dare  engage  The  guide's  speech 

True-hearted  is,  and  to  is  Feeble-mind,  to  the  Shepherds 

Who  willing  was  not  to  be  left  behind. 

Despondency,  good  man,  is  coming  after, 

And  so  also  is  Much-afraid,  his  daughter. 

May  we  have  entertainment  here,  or  must 

We  further  go  ?     Let's  know  whereon  to  trust. 

Then  said  the  Shepherds,  This  is  a  comfortable  com- 
pany.    You  are    welcome  to  us  ;   for   we  have  for  the 
feeble,   as   for   the   strong.     Our   Prince     Their  entertain- 
has  an  eye  to  what  is  done  to  the  least     ment 
of  these ;  therefore  infirmity  must  not  be  a  block  to  our 
entertainment.     So   they  had   them  to  the   palace  door, 
and   then    said   unto   them,  Come   in,   Mr    Feeble-mind, 
come  in,  Mr  Ready-to-halt,  come   in,  Mr  Despondency, 

293 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 


and  Mrs  Much-afraid,  his  daughter.  These,  Mr  Great- 
heart,  said  the  Shepherds  to  the  guide,  we  call  in  by 
name,  for  that  they  are  most  subject  to  draw  back ;  but 
as  for  you,  and  the  rest  that  are  strong,  we  leave  you 
to  your  wonted  liberty.  Then  said  Mr  Great-heart,  This 
day  I  see  that  grace  doth  shine  in  your  faces,  and  that  you 
A  description  of  ar^  my  Lord's  shepherds  indeed;  for  that 
false  shepherds  yOU  have  not  pushed  these  diseased  neither 
with  side  nor  shoulder,  but  have  rather  strewed  their  way 
into  the  palace  with  flowers,  as  you  should. 

So  the  feeble  and  weak  went  in,  and  Mr  Great-heart 
and  the  rest  did  follow.  When  they  were  also  set  down 
the  Shepherds  said  to  those  of  the  weaker  sort,  What  is 
it  that  you  would  have'?  for,  said  they,  all  things  must  be 
managed  here  to  the  supporting  of  the  weak,  as  well  as 
to  the  warning  of  the  unruly.  So  they  made  them  a  feast 
of  things  easy  of  digestion,  and  that  were  pleasant  to  the 
palate,  and  nourishing  ;  the  which  when  they  had  received, 
they  went  to  their  rest,  each  one  respectively  unto  his 
proper  place. 

When  morning  was  come,  because  the  mountains  were 
high  and  the  day  clear,  and  because  it  was  the  custom  of 
the  Shepherds  to  show  to  the  pilgrims  before  their  departure 
some  rarities,  therefore  after  they  were  ready,  and  had 
refreshed  themselves,  the  Shepherds  took  them  out  into 
the  fields,  and  showed  them  first  what  they  had  showed  to 
Christian  before. 

Then  they  had  them  to  some  new  places.  The  first  was 
to  Mount  Marvel,  where  they  looked,  and 

Mount  Marvel  1111  7, 

behold  a  man  at  a  distance,  that  tumbled 
the  hills  about  with  words.  Then  they  asked  the  Shep- 
herds what  that  should  mean.  So  they  told  them,  that 
that  man  was  the  son  of  one  Great-grace,  of  whom  you 
read  in  the  first  part  of  the  records  of  the  Pilgrims 
Progress ;  and  he  is  set  there  to  teach  pilgrims  how  to 
believe  down,  or  to  tumble  out  of  their  ways,  what 
difficulties  they  shall  meet  with,  by  faith.  Then  said 
Mr  Great-heart,  I  know  him,  he  is  a  man  above  many. 

294 


MOUNT  CHARITY 

Then  they  had  them  to  another  place,  called  Mount 
Innocent.  And  there  they  saw  a  man 
clothed  all  in  white ;  and  two  men,  Pre- 
judice and  Ill-will,  continually  casting  dirt  upon  him. 
Now,  behold,  the  dirt,  whatsoever  they  cast  at  him, 
would  in  little  time  fall  off  again,  and  his  garment  would 
look  as  clear  as  if  no  dirt  had  been  cast  thereat.  Then 
said  the  pilgrims,  What  means  this  ?  The  Shepherds 
answered,  This  man  is  named  Godly-man,  and  this  garment 
is  to  show  the  innocency  of  his  life.  Now  those  that 
throw  dirt  at  him,  are  such  as  hate  his  well-doing  ;  but, 
as  you  see  the  dirt  will  not  stick  upon  his  clothes,  so  it 
shall  be  with  him  that  liveth  truly  innocently  in  the  world. 
Whoever  they  be  that  would  make  such  men  dirty,  they 
labour  all  in  vain ;  for  God,  by  that  a  little  time  is  spent, 
will  cause  that  their  innocence  shall  break  forth  as  the 
light,  and  their  righteousness  as  the  noonday. 

Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  Mount  Charity, 
where  they  showed  them  a  man  that  had  a 
bundle  of  cloth  lying  before  him,  out  of 
which  he  cut  coats  and  garments  for  the  poor  that  stood 
about  him ;  yet  his  bundle  or  roll  of  cloth  was  never  the 
less.  Then  said  they,  What  should  this  be  ?  This  is, 
said  the  Shepherds,  to  show  you,  that  he  that  has  a  heart 
to  give  of  his  labour  to  the  poor,  shall  never  want  where- 
withal. He  that  watereth,  shall  be  watered  himself.  And 
the  cake  that  the  widow  gave  to  the  prophet,  did  not  cause 
that  she  had  ever  the  less  in  her  barrel. 

They  had   them   also  to  a  place  where  they  saw  one 
Fool,  and  one  Want-wit,  washing  of  an 

T?  i  •       •  •  i      •  •  ,         t  .  The  work  of  one 

JLtmopian,  with  intention  to  make  him  Fool  and  one 
white;  but  the  more  they  washed  him  Want'wit 
the  blacker  he  was.  They  then  asked  the  Shepherds  what 
that  should  mean.  So  they  told  them,  saying,  Thus  shall 
it  be  with  the  vile  person ;  all  means  used  to  get  such  a 
one  a  good  name,  shall  in  conclusion  tend  but  to  make 
him  more  abominable.  Thus  it  was  with  the  Pharisees  j 
and  so  shall  it  be  with  all  hypocrites. 

295 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Then  said  Mercy,  the  wife  of  Matthew,  to  Christiana, 
her  mother,  Mother,  I  would,  if  it  might 
SShJtofa  be,  see  the  hole  in  the  hill,  or  that  com- 
thehiii  monly  called  the  by-way  to  hell.  So  her 

mother  brake  her  mind  to  the  Shepherds.  Then  they 
went  to  the  door ;  it  was  in  the  side  of  an  hill ;  and  they 
opened  it,  and  bid  Mercy  hearken  a  while.  So  she 
hearkened,  and  heard  one  saying,  Cursed  be  my  father 
for  holding  of  my  feet  back  from  the  way  of  peace  and 
life.  And  another  said,  Oh  that  I  had  been  torn  in  pieces 
before  I  had,  to  save  my  life,  lost  my  soul !  And  another 
said,  If  I  were  to  live  again,  how  would  I  deny  myself 
rather  than  come  to  this  place  !  Then  there  was  as  if  the 
very  earth  had  groaned  and  quaked  under  the  feet  of  this 
young  woman  for  fear;  so  she  looked  white,  and  came 
trembling  away,  saying,  Blessed  be  he  and  she  that  are 
delivered  from  this  place  ! 

Now  when  the  Shepherds  had  showed  them  all  these 
things,  then  they  had  them  back  to  the  palace,  and  enter- 
tained them  with  what  the  house  would  afford.  But 
Mercy  longeth,  Mercy,  being  a  young  and  breeding  woman, 
and  for  what  longed  for  something  which  she  saw  there, 

but  was  ashamed  to  ask.  Her  mother-in-law  then  asked 
her  what  she  ailed,  for  she  looked  as  one  not  well.  Then 
said  Mercy,  There  is  a  looking-glass  hangs  up  in  the  dining- 
room,  off  of  which  I  cannot  take  my  mind  j  if,  therefore,  I 
have  it  not,  I  think  I  shall  miscarry.  Then  said  her  mother, 
I  will  mention  thy  wants  to  the  Shepherds,  and  they  will 
not  deny  it  thee.  But  she  said,  I  am  ashamed  that  these 
men  should  know  that  I  longed.  Nay,  my  daughter,  said 
she,  it  is  no  shame,  but  a  virtue,  to  long  for  such  a  thing 
as  that.  So  Mercy  said,  Then,  mother,  if  you  please,  ask 
the  Shepherds  if  they  are  willing  to  sell  it. 

Now  the  glass  was  one  of  a  thousand.    It  would  present 

It  was  the  Word  of     a    man>    °ne    Wa7»     with    his   ,°Wn    featUre 

God  exactly  ;  and  turn  it  but  another  way,  and 

it  would  show  one  the  very  face  and  similitude  of  the 
Prince  of  pilgrims  himself.  Yea,  I  have  talked  with  them 


GIFTS  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS 

that  can  tell,  and  they  have  said  that  they  have  seen  the 
very  crown  of  thorns  upon  His  head  by  looking  in  that 
glass  ;  they  have  therein  also  seen  the  holes  in  His  hands, 
in  His  feet,  and  His  side.  Yea,  such  an  excellency  is  there 
in  that  glass,  that  it  will  show  Him  to  one  where  they  have 
a  mind  to  see  Him ;  whether  living  or  dead ;  whether  in 
earth  or  heaven;  whether  in  a  state  of  humiliation  or  in 
His  exaltation ;  whether  coming  to  suffer  or  coming  to 
reign. 

Christiana  therefore  went  to  the  Shepherds  apart,  now 
the  names  of  the  Shepherds  are  Knowledge,  Experience, 
Watchful,  and  Sincere,  and  said  unto  them,  There  is  one 
of  my  daughters,  a  breeding  woman,  that  I  think  doth  long 
for  something  that  she  hath  seen  in  this  house;  and  she 
thinks  she  shall  miscarry  if  she  should  by  you  be  denied. 

Experience.     Call  her,  call  her,  she  shall  assuredly 
have  what  we  can  help  her  to.     So  they  called  her,  and 
said  to  her,  Mercy,  what  is  that  thing  thou  wouldest  have  ? 
Then  she  blushed,  and  said,  The  great  glass  that  hangs  up 
in  the  dining-room.     So  Sincere  ran  and     she  doth  not  lose 
fetched  it,  and  with  a  joyful  consent  it  was     her  lon&in£ 
given  her.     Then  she  bowed  her  head,  and  gave  thanks, 
and  said,  By  this  I  know  that  I  have  obtained  favour  in 
your  eyes. 

They  also  gave  to  the  other  young  women  such  things 
as  they  desired,  and  to  their  husbands  great  commendations, 
for  that  they  joined  with  Mr  Great-heart  to  the  slaying  of 
Giant  Despair,  and  the  demolishing  of  Doubting  Castle. 

About  Christiana's  neck  the  Shepherds  put  a  bracelet, 
and  so  they  did  about   the  necks  of  her     How  the 
four  daughters ;  also  they  put  ear-rinsrs  in     Shepherds  adorn 

,     .  ,' .  i     •     r  the  pilgrims 

their  ears,  and  jewels  on  their  foreheads. 

When  they  were  minded  to  go  hence,  they  let  them  go 
in  peace,  but  gave  not  to  them  those  certain  cautions  which 
before  were  given  to  Christian  and  his  companion.  The 
reason  was,  for  that  these  had  Great-heart  to  be  their 
guide,  who  was  one  that  was  well  acquainted  with  things, 
and  so  could  give  them  their  cautions  more  seasonably,  to 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

wit,  even  then  when  the  danger  was  nigh  the  approaching. 
What  cautions  Christian  and  his  companions  had  received 
of  the  Shepherds,  they  had  also  lost  by  that  the  time 
was  come  that  they  had  need  to  put  them  in  practice. 
Wherefore,  here  was  the  advantage  that  this  company 
had  over  the  other. 

From  hence  they  went  on  singing ;  and  they  said : — 

Behold  how  fitly  are  the  stages  set 

For  their  relief  that  pilgrims  are  become, 

And  how  they  us  receive  without  one  let, 

That  make  the  other  life  our  mark  and  home  I 

What  novelties  they  have  to  us  they  give, 

That  we,  though  pilgrims,  joyful  lives  may  live. 

They  do  upon  us,  too,  such  things  bestow, 
That  show  we  pilgrims  are  where'er  we  go. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  Shepherds  they  quickly 
came  to  the  place  where  Christian  met  with  one  Turn-away, 
that  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Apostacy.  Wherefore  of  him 
Mr  Great-heart  their  guide  did  now  put  them  in  mind, 
saying,  This  is  the  place  where  Christian  met  with  one 
Turn-away,  who  carried  with  him  the  character  of  his 
rebellion  at  his  back.  And  this  I  have  to  say  concerning 
this  man  j — he  would  hearken  to  no  counsel,  but  once  a 
falling,  persuasion  could  not  stop  him.  When  he  came  to 
the  place  where  the  cross  and  the  sepulchre 

How  one  Turn-  J,        ...  ..  .          i«  i  {•  i  i  • 

away  managed  were,  he  did  meet  with  one  that  did  bid  him 
look  there  ;  but  he  gnashed  with  his  teeth, 
and  stamped,  and  said  he  was  resolved  to  go  back  to  his  own 
town.  Before  he  came  to  the  gate  he  met  with  Evangelist, 
who  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him,  to  turn  him  into  the  way 
again.  But  this  Turn-away  resisted  him,  and  having  done 
much  despite  unto  him,  he  got  away  over  the  wall,  and  so 
escaped  his  hand. 

Then  they  went  on  ;  and  just  at  the  place  where  Little- 
faith  formerly  was  robbed,  there  stood  a  man  with  his 
sword  drawn,  and  his  face  all  bloody.  Then  said  Mr 
Great-heart,  What  art  thou  ?  The  man  made  answer, 
saying,  I  am  one  whose  name  is  Valiant-for-truth.  I  am  a 

298 


VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH 

pilgrim,  and  am  going  to  the  Celestial  City.     Now,  as  I 
was  in  my  way.  there  were  three  men  did 

J        ,J9  ,     ,  ,  One  Valiant-for- 

beset  me,  and  propounded  unto  me  these     truth  beset  with 
three  things  :  I.  Whether  I  would  become     thieves 
one  of  them.     2.  Or  go  back  from  whence  I  came.    3.  Or 
die   upon   the   place.     To  the   first   I   answered,  I   had 
been   a   true   man   for   a  long   season,   and   therefore   it 
could  not  be  expected  that  I  now  should  cast  in  my  lot 
with  thieves.      Then  they  demanded  what  I  would  say  to 
the  second.     So  I  told  them,  that  the  place  from  whence  I 
came,  had  I  not  found  incommodity  there,  I  had  not  for- 
saken it  at  all ;  but  finding  it  altogether  unsuitable  to  me, 
and  very  unprofitable  for  me,  I  forsook  it  for  this  way. 
Then  they  asked  me  what  I  said  to  the  third.     And  I  told 
them,  my  life  cost  more  dear  far  than  that  I  should  lightly 
give  it  away.     Besides,  you  have  nothing  to  do  thus  to  put 
things  to  my  choice ;  wherefore  at  your  peril  be  it  if  you 
meddle.     Then  these   three,   to  wit,   Wild-head,  Incon- 
siderate, and  Pragmatick,  drew  upon  me,  and  I  also  drew 
upon  them.     So  we  fell  to  it,  one  against  three,  for  the 
space  of  above  three  hours.     They  have     HOW  he  behaved 
left  upon  me,  as  you  see,  some  of  the     himself,  and  put 
marks  of  their  valour,  and  have  also  carried 
away  with  them  some  of  mine.     They  are  but  just  now 
gone  :  I  suppose  they  might,  as  the  saying  is,  hear  your 
horse  dash,  and  so  they  betook  themselves  to  flight. 

Great-heart.  But  here  was  great  odds,  three  against  one. 

Valiant.    'Tis  true ;  but  little  and  more     Great.heart 
are  nothing  to  him  that  has  the  truth  on  his     wonders  at  his 
side:  Though  an  host  should  encampagainst 
me,  said  one,  my  heart  shall  not  fear:  though  war  should  rise 
against  me,  in  this  will  1  be  confident,  etc.    Besides,  said  he, 
I  have  read  in  some  records  that  one  man  has  fought  an  army : 
and  how  many  did  Samson  slay  with  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass  ! 

Great.     Then  said  the  guide,  Why  did  you  not  cry  out, 
that  some  might  a  come  in  for  your  succour  ? 

Valiant.     So  I  did  to  my  King,  who  I  knew  could  hear, 
and  afford  invisible  help,  and  that  was  sufficient  for  me. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Great.     Then  said  Great-heart  to  Mr  Valiant-for-truth, 
Thou  hast  worthily  behaved  thyself;  let 
me  see  th7  sword.     So  he  showed  it  him. 
spends  his  judg-  When  he  had  taken  it  in  his  hand  and 

ment  on  it  ,  ,.  ••••••  .  t     T  T     i    •     • 

looked  thereon  a  while,  he  said,  Ha !  it  is 
a  right  Jerusalem  blade. 

Valiant.  It  is  so.  Let  a  man  have  one  of  these  blades, 
with  a  hand  to  wield  it  and  skill  to  use  it,  and  he  may 
venture  upon  an  angel  with  it.  He  need  not  fear  its  hold- 
ing, if  he  can  but  tell  how  to  lay  on.  Its  edges  will  never 
blunt.  It  will  cut  flesh  and  bones,  and  soul  and  spirit  and  all. 

Great.  But  you  fought  a  great  while ;  I  wonder  you 
was  not  weary. 

Valiant.  I  fought  till  my  sword  did  cleave  to  my 
_,  hand ;  and  when  they  were  joined  to- 

1  he  word  ,     '  .  r  .J  r 

The  faith  gether  as  if  a  sword  grew  out  of  my 

arm,  and  when  the  blood  ran  through 
my  fingers,  then  I  fought  with  most  courage. 

Great.  Thou  hast  done  well ;  thou  hast  resisted  unto 
blood,  striving  against  sin.  Thou  shalt  abide  by  us,  come 
in  and  go  out  with  us  ;  for  we  are  thy  companions.  Then 
they  took  him,  and  washed  his  wounds,  and  gave  him  of 
what  they  had,  to  refresh  him :  and  so  they  went  on  together. 

Now  as  they  went  on,  because  Mr  Great-heart  was 
delighted  in  him  (for  he  loved  one  greatly  that  he  found 
to  be  a  man  of  his  hands),  and  because  there  was  with 
Whatcountryman  his  company  them  that  were  feeble  and 
Mr  Valiant  was  weak,  therefore  he  questioned  with  him 
about  many  things ;  as  first,  what  countryman  he  was. 

Valiant.  I  am  of  Dark-land ;  for  there  I  was  born, 
and  there  my  father  and  mother  are  still. 

Great.  Dark-land,  said  the  guide;  doth  not  that  lie 
upon  the  same  coast  with  the  City  of  Destruction  ? 

Valiant.     Yes,  it  doth.    Now  that  which  caused  me  to 

HOW  Mr  valiant          comeon  pilgrimage  was  this.     We  had 

came  to  go  on  one  Mr  1  ell-true  came  into  our  parts,  and 

he  told  it  about  what  Christian  had  done, 

that  went  from  the  City  of  Destruction;  namely,  how  he 

300 


VALIANT  AND  GREAT-HEART 

had  forsaken  his  wife  and  children,  and  had  betaken  himself 
to  a  pilgrim's  life.  It  was  also  confidently  reported,  how 
he  had  killed  a  serpent  that  did  come  out  to  resist  him  in 
his  journey ;  and  how  he  got  through  to  whither  he  in- 
tended. It  was  also  told  what  welcome  he  had  at  all  his 
Lord's  lodgings,  specially  when  he  came  to  the  gates  of 
the  Celestial  City  ;  for  there,  said  the  man,  he  was  received 
with  sound  of  trumpet  by  a  company  of  shining  ones.  He 
told  it  also  how  all  the  bells  in  the  city  did  ring  for  joy  at 
his  reception,  and  what  golden  garments  he  was  clothed 
with ;  with  many  other  things  that  now  I  shall  forbear  to 
relate.  In  a  word,  that  man  so  told  the  story  of  Christian 
and  his  travels  that  my  heart  fell  into  a  burning  haste  to 
be  gone  after  him ;  nor  could  father  or  mother  stay  me. 
So  I  got  from  them,  and  am  come  thus  far  on  my  way. 

Great.     You  came  in  at  the  gate,  did  you  not  ? 

Valiant.  Yes,  yes ;  for  the  same  man  also  told  us, 
that  all  would  be  nothing,  if  we  did  not 

°i  He  begins  right 

begin  to  enter  this  way  at  the  gate. 

Great.     Look  you,  said  the  guide   to  Christiana,  the 
pilgrimage   of  your   husband,   and   what     Christian's  name 
he  has  gotten  thereby,  is  spread  abroad     *anious 
far  and  near. 

Valiant.     Why,  is  this  Christian's  wife  ? 

Great.     Yes,  that  it  is  ;  and  these  are  also  her  four  sons. 

Valiant.     What,  and  going  on  pilgrimage  too  ? 

Great.     Yes,  verily,  they  are  following  after. 

Valiant.     It  glads  me  at  the  heart.    Good  man,  how  joy- 
ful will  he  be  when  he  shall  see  them  that     He  is  much  re- 
would  not  go  with  him,  yet  to  enter  after     joicedtosee 

,&  .  t       /-,-        i  Christian's  wife 

him  in  at  the  gates  into  the  City  ! 

Great.  Without  doubt  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  him; 
for  next  to  the  joy  of  seeing  himself  there,  it  will  be  a  joy 
to  meet  there  his  wife  and  his  children. 

Valiant.  But  now  you  are  upon  that,  pray  let  me  see 
your  opinion  about  it.  Some  make  a  question,  whether 
we  shall  know  one  another  when  we  are  there. 

Great.     Do  they  think  they  shall  know  themselves  then, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

or  that  they  shall  rejoice  to  see  themselves  in  that  bliss  ? 

and  if  they  think  they  shall  know  and  do 

k^w  onelno'Sfer      these,  why  not  know  others,  and  rejoice 

tohhea.venc°mc          'm  ^e'1T  we^are  a^so  -?      Again,  since  re- 

lations are  our  second   self,  though  that 

state  will   be  dissolved  there,  yet  why   may  it  not   be 

rationally  concluded,  that  we  shall  be  more  glad  to  see 

them  there,  than  to  see  they  are  wanting  ? 

Valiant.  Well,  I  perceive  whereabouts  you  are  as  to 
this.  Have  you  any  more  things  to  ask  me  about  my 
beginning  to  come  on  pilgrimage  ? 

Great.  Yes  5  were  your  father  and  mother  willing 
that  you  should  become  a  pilgrim  ? 

Valiant.  Oh,  no;  they  used  all  means  imaginable  to 
persuade  me  to  stay  at  home. 

Great.     Why,  what  could  they  say  against  it  ? 

Valiant.     They  said  it  was  an  idle  life  ; 
and  #  I  myself  were  not  inclined  to  sloth 


by  HIS  friends  were     and  laziness,  I  would  never  countenance  a 

laid  in  his  way  ..       .     ,  ••  • 

pilgrim  s  condition. 

Great.     And  what  did  they  say  else  ? 

Valiant.  Why,  they  told  me  that  it  was  a  dangerous 
way  ;  yea,  the  most  dangerous  way  in  the  world,  said 
they,  is  that  which  the  pilgrims  go. 

Great.    Did  they  show  wherein  this  way  is  so  dangerous  ? 

Valiant.     Yes  ;  and  that  in  many  particulars. 

Great.      Name  some  of  them. 

Valiant.  They  told  me  of  the  Slough  of  Despond, 
The  first  stum-  where  Christian  was  well  nigh  smothered. 
bling-biock  They  told  me,  that  there  were  archers 

standing  ready  in  Beelzebub  Castle  to  shoot  them  that 
should  knock  at  the  Wicket-gate  for  entrance.  They  told 
me  also  of  the  wood  and  dark  mountains  ;  of  the  hill 
Difficulty  ;  of  the  lions  ;  and  also  of  the  three  giants, 
Bloody-man,  Maul,  and  Slay-good.  They  said  moreover, 
that  there  was  a  foul  fiend  haunted  the  Valley  of  Humilia- 
tion ;  and  that  Christian  w°s  by  him  almost  bereft  of  life. 
Besides,  said  they,  you  ^  •-..,».  go  over  the  Valley  of  the 

302 


VALIANT  AND  GREAT-HEART 

Shadow  of  Death,  where  the  hobgoblins  are,  where  the 
light  is  darkness,  where  the  way  is  full  of  snares,  pits, 
traps,  and  gins.  They  told  me  also  of  Giant  Despair,  of 
Doubting  Castle,  and  of  the  ruins  that  the  pilgrims  met 
with  there.  Further,  they  said  I  must  go  over  the  Enchanted 
Ground,  which  was  dangerous ;  and  that  after  all  this  I 
should  find  a  river,  over  which  I  should  find  no  bridge;  and 
that  that  river  did  lie  betwixt  me  and  the  Celestial  Country. 

Great.     And  was  this  all  ? 

Valiant.    No.    They  also  told  me  that  this  way  was  full 
of  deceivers,  and  of  persons  that  laid  await 
there  to  turn  good  men  out  of  the  path. 

Great.     But  how  did  they  make  that  out  ? 

Valiant.    They  told  me,  that  Mr  Woridly-wiseman  did 
there  lie  in  wait  to  deceive.    They  also  said,     Thg  ^^ 
that  there  were  Formality  and  Hypocrisy 
continually  on  the  road.     They  said  also,  that  By-ends, 
Talkative,  or  Demas,  would  go  near  to  gather  me  up  ;  that 
the  Flatterer  would  catch  me  in  his  net;  or  that,  with  green- 
headed  Ignorance,  I  would  presume  to  go  on  to  the  gate, 
from  whence  he  always  was  sent  back  to  the  hole  that  was 
in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  made  to  go  the  by-way  to  hell. 

Great.     I  promise  you,  this  was  enough  to  discourage ; 
but  did  they  make  an  end  here  ? 

Valiant.     No,  stay.     They  told  me  also  of  many  that 
had  tried  that  way  of  old,  and  that   had 

J   ,          .  .  c     i  The  fourth 

gone  a  great  way  therein,  to  see  it  they 
could  find  something  of  the  glory  there  that  so  many  had 
so  much  talked  of  from  time  to  time,  and  how  they  came 
back  again,  and  befooled  themselves  for  setting  a  foot  out 
of  doors  in  that  path,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  the  country. 
And  they  named  several  that  did  so,  as  Obstinate  and 
Pliable,  Mistrust  and  Timorous,  Turn-away  and  old 
Atheist,  with  several  more;  who,  they  said,  had  some 
of  them  gone  far  to  see  if  they  could  find,  but  not 
one  of  them  found  so  much  advantage  by  going  as 
amounted  to  the  weight  of  a  feather. 

Great     Said  they  any  thing        -e  to  discourage  you  ? 

303 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

Valiant.  Yes.  They  told  me  of  one  Mr  Fearing, 
who  was  a  pilgrim,  and  how  he  found  his 
way  so  solitary,  that  he  never  had  com- 
fortable hour  therein ;  also  that  Mr  Despondency  had 
like  to  been  starved  therein  ;  yea,  and  also  (which  I  had 
almost  forgot)  that  Christian  himself,  about  whom  there 
has  been  such  a  noise,  after  all  his  ventures  for  a  celestial 
crown,  was  certainly  drowned  in  the  Black  River,  and 
never  went  foot  further,  however  it  was  smothered  up. 

Great.     And  did  none  of  these  things  discourage  you  ? 

Valiant.  No ;  they  seemed  but  as  so  many  nothings  to  me. 

Great.     How  came  that  about  ? 

Valiant.  Why,  I  still  believed  what  Mr  Tell-true 
HOW  he  got  over  had  said  ;  and  that  carried  me  beyond 

these  stumbling1-  ,  , , 

blocks  them  all. 

Great.     Then  this  was  your  victory,  even  your  faith. 

Valiant.  It  was  so.  I  believed,  and  therefore  came 
out,  got  into  the  way,  fought  all  that  set  themselves 
against  me,  and,  by  believing,  am  come  to  this  place. 

Who  would  true  valour  see, 

Let  him  come  hither  ; 
One  here  will  constant  be, 

Come  wind,  come  weather; 
There's  no  discouragement 
Shall  make  him  once  relent 
His  first  avowed  intent 

To  be  a  pilgrim. 

Whoso  beset  him  round 

With  dismal  stories, 
Do  but  themselves  confound  j 

His  strength  the  more  is. 
No  lion  can  him  fright, 
He'll  with  a  giant  fight, 
But  he  will  have  a  right 

To  be  a  pilgrim. 

Hobgoblin  nor  foul  fiend 

Can  daunt  his  spirit; 
He  knows  he  at  the  end 

Shall  life  inherit. 
Then  fancies  fly  away, 
He'll  fear  not  what  men  say; 
He'll  labour  night  and  day 

To  be  a  pilgrim, 

3°4 


ENCHANTED  GROUND 

By  this  time  they  were  got  to  the  Enchanted  Ground, 
-where  the  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one  drowsy.  And 
that  place  was  all  grown  over  with  briers  and  thorns, 
excepting  here  and  there,  where  was  an  enchanted  arbour, 
upon  which  if  a  man  sits,  or  in  which  if  a  man  sleeps,  'tis 
a  question,  say  some,  whether  ever  they  shall  rise  or  wake 
again  in  this  world.  Over  this  forest  therefore  they  went, 
both  one  with  another,  and  Mr  Great-heart  went  before, 
for  that  he  was  the  guide ;  and  Mr  Valiant-for-truth  he  came 
behind,  being  there  a  guard,  for  fear  lest  peradventure  some 
fiend,  or  dragon,  or  giant,  or  thief,  should  fall  upon  their 
rear,  and  so  do  mischief.  They  went  on  here,  each  man 
with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand ;  for  they  knew  it  was 
a  dangerous  place.  Also  they  cheered  up  one  another  as 
well  as  they  could.  Feeble-mind,  Mr  Great-heart  com- 
manded, should  come  up  after  him  5  and  Mr  Despondency 
was  under  the  eye  of  Mr  Valiant. 

Now  they  had  not  gone  far,  but  a  great  mist  and  a 
darkness  fell  upon  them  all ;  so  that  they  could  scarce, 
for  a  great  while,  see  the  one  the  other.  Wherefore 
they  were  forced,  for  some  time,  to  feel  for  one  another 
by  words;  for  they  walked  not  by  sight.  But  any  one 
must  think,  that  here  was  but  sorry  going  for  the  best 
of  them  all  j  but  how  much  worse  for  the  women  and 
children,  who  both  of  feet  and  heart  were  but  tender ! 
Yet  so  it  was,  that  through  the  encouraging  words  of  him 
that  lead  in  the  front,  and  of  him  that  brought  them  up 
behind,  they  made  a  pretty  good  shift  to  wag  along. 

The  way  also  was  here  very  wearisome,  through  dirt  and 
slabbiness.  Nor  was  there,  on  all  this  ground,  so  much  as 
one  inn  or  victualling-house  therein  to  refresh  the  feebler 
sort.  Here,  therefore,  was  grunting,  and  puffing,  and 
sighing,  while  one  tumbleth  over  a  bush,  another  sticks  fast 
in  the  dirt,  and  the  children,  some  of  them,  lost  their  shoes 
in  the  mire ; — while  one  cries  out,  I  am  down ;  and  another, 
Ho,  where  are  you  ?  and  a  third,  The  bushes  have  got 
such  fast  hold  on  me,  I  think  I  cannot  get  away  from  them. 

Then  they  came  at  an  arbour,  warm,  and  promising 
much  refreshing  to  the  pilgrims  ;  for  it  was  finely  wrought 

305  y 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

above  head,  beautified  with  greens,  furnished  with  benches 
and  settles.     It  also  had  in  it  a  soft  couch, 

An  arbour  on  the  .    ,  ^,,  . 

enchanting  whereon  the  weary  might  lean.  I  his,  you 

must  think ,  all  things  considered,  was  tempt- 
ing ;  for  the  pilgrims  already  began  to  be  foiled  with  the  bad- 
ness of  the  way  :  but  there  was  not  one  of  them  that  made  so 
much  as  a  motion  to  stop  there.  Yea,  for  aught  I  could  per- 
ceive, they  continually  gave  so  good  heed  to  the  advice  of 
their  guide,  and  he  did  so  faithfully  tell  them  of  dangers,  and 
of  the  nature  of  the  dangers  when  they  were  at  them,  that 
usually  when  they  were  nearest  to  them,  they  did  most  pluck 
up  their  spirits,  and  hearten  one  another  to  deny  the  flesh. 
The  name  of  the  This  arbour  was  called  The  Slothful's 
arbour  Friend,  on  purpose  to  allure,  if  it  might  be, 

some  of  the  pilgrims  there  to  take  up  their  rest  when  weary. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  in  this  their 
The  way  difficult  solitary  ground,  till  they  came  to  a  place  at 
t°  find  which  a  man  is  apt  to  lose  his  way.  Now, 

though  when  it  was  light  their  guide  could  well  enough 
tell  how  to  miss  those  ways  that  led  wrong,  yet  in  the 
The  guide  has  a  dark  he  was  put  to  a  stand.  But  he  had 
EadiSe^o  orays  *n  ^s  Pocket  a  map  of  all  ways  leading  to 
from  the  city  or  from  the  Celestial  City;  wherefore  he 

struck  a  light  (for  he  never  goes  also  without  his  tinder- 
box),  and  takes  a  view  of  his  book  or  map,  which  bids  him 
be  careful  in  that  place  to  turn  to  the  right-hand  way.  And 
had  he  not  here  been  careful  to  look  in  his  map,  they  had  all 
in  probability  been  smothered  in  the  mud  ;  for  just  a  little 
before  them,  and  that  at  the  end  of  the  cleanest  way  too, 
was  a  pit,  none  knows  how  deep,  full  of  nothing  but  mud, 
there  made  on  purpose  to  destroy  the  pilgrims  in. 

Then  thought  I  with  myself,  Who  that  goeth  on  pil- 
God's  bo  k  grimage  but  would  have  one  of  these  maps 

about  him,  that  he  may  look  when  he  is  at 
a  stand,  which  is  the  way  he  must  take  ? 

They  went  on  then  in  this  Enchanted  Ground,  till 
An  arbour  and  they  came  to  where  was  another  arbour, 
two  asleep  therein  ancj  jt  was  built  by  the  highway-side.  And 
in  that  arbour  there  lay  two  men,  whose  names  were 

306 


LAST  REFUGE  OF  THE  ENEMY 

Heedless  and  Too-bold.  These  two  went  thus  far  on 
pilgrimage  ;  but  here,  being  wearied  with  their  journey, 
they  sat  down  to  rest  themselves,  and  so  fell  fast  asleep. 
When  the  pilgrims  saw  them,  they  stood  still,  and  shook 
their  heads  ;  for  they  knew  that  the  sleepers  were  in  a 
pitiful  case.  Then  they  consulted  what  to  do,  whether  to 
go  on  and  leave  them  in  their  sleep,  or  to  step  to  them  and 
try  to  wake  them.  So  they  concluded  to  go  to  them  and 
awake  them  ;  that  is,  if  they  could  ;  but  with  this  caution, 
namely,  to  take  heed  that  themselves  did  not  sit  down 
nor  embrace  the  offered  benefit  of  that  arbour. 

So  they  went  in,  and  spake  to  the  men,  and  called  each 
by  his  name,  for  the  guide  it   seems  did     The  pilgrims  try 
know  them  ;  but  there  was  no  voice  nor     to  wake  them 
answer.     Then  the  guide  did  shake  them,  and  do  what  he 
could  to  disturb  them.     Then  said  one  of  them,  I  will  pay 
you  when  I  take  my  money.     At  which  the  guide  shook 
his  head.     I  will  fight  so  long  as  I  can  hold  my  sword  in  my 
hand,  said  the  other.     At  that,  one  of  the  children  laughed. 

Then  said  Christiana,  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  The 
guide  said,  They  talk  in  their  sleep.  If  Their  endeavour  is 
you  strike  them,  beat  them,  or  whatever  fruitless 
else  you  do  to  them,  they  will  answer  you  after  this 
fashion ;  or  as  one  of  them  said  in  old  time,  when  the 
waves  of  the  sea  did  beat  upon  him,  and  he  slept  as  one 
upon  the  mast  of  a  ship,  When  I  awake,  I  will  seek  it 
again.  You  know  when  men  talk  in  their  sleeps,  they 
say  anything ;  but  their  words  are  not  governed  either 
by  faith  or  reason.  There  is  an  incoherency  in  their 
words  now,  as  there  was  before  betwixt  their  going  on 
pilgrimage  and  sitting  down  here.  This  then  is  the 
mischief  on't ; — when  heedless  ones  go  on  pilgrimage,  'tis 
twenty  to  one  but  they  are  served  thus.  For  this 
Enchanted  Ground  is  one  of  the  last  refuges  that  the 
enemy  to  pilgrims  has ;  wherefore  it  is,  as  you  see,  placed 
almost  at  the  end  of  the  way,  and  so  it  standeth  against  us 
with  the  more  advantage.  For  when,  thinks  the  enemy, 
will  these  fools  be  so  desirous  to  sit  down  as  when  they 
are  weary  ?  and  when  so  like  to  be  weary  as  when  almost 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

at  their  journey's  end  ?  Therefore  it  is,  I  say,  that  the 
Enchanted  Ground  is  placed  so  nigh  to  the  land  Beulah,  and 
so  near  the  end  of  their  race.  Wherefore  let  pilgrims  look 
to  themselves,  lest  it  happen  to  them  as  it  has  done  to  these 
that,  as  you  see,  are  fallen  asleep,  and  none  can  wake  them. 

Then  the  pilgrims  desired  with  trembling  to  go  forward ; 
only  they  prayed  their  guide  to  strike  a  light,  that  they 
might  go  the  rest  of  their  way  by  the  help  of  the  light  of 
The  light  of  the  a  lantern.  So  he  struck  a  light,  and  they 
Word  went  by  the  help  of  that  through  the 

rest  of  this  way,  though  the  darkness  was  very  great. 
But  the  children  began  to  be  sorely  weary,  and  they 
The  children  cry  cried  out  unto  Him  that  loveth  pilgrims, 
for  weariness  to  make  their  way  more  comfortable.  So 

by  that  they  had  gone  a  little  further,  a  wind  arose  that 
drove  away  the  fog,  so  the  air  became  more  clear.  Yet 
they  were  not  off  (by  much)  of  the  Enchanted  Ground; 
only  now  they  could  see  one  another  better,  and  the  way 
wherein  they  should  walk. 

Now  when  they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  this  ground, 

they  perceived  that  a  little  before  them  was  a  solemn  noise 

as  of  one  that  was  much  concerned.     So  they  went  on, 

and  looked  before  them  :  and  behold  they 

Stand-fast  upon  .  .  / 

his  knees  in  the  saw,  as  they  thought,  a  man  upon  his 
round  knees,  with  hands  and  eyes  lift  up,  and 
speaking,  as  they  thought,  earnestly  to  one  that  was  above. 
They  drew  nigh,  but  could  not  tell  what  he  said ;  so  they 
went  softly  till  he  had  done.  When  he  had  done  he  got 
up,  and  began  to  run  towards  the  Celestial  City.  Then 
Mr  Great-heart  called  after  him,  saying,  Soho,  friend  !  let 
us  have  your  company  if  you  go,  as  I  suppose  you  do,  to 
the  Celestial  City.  So  the  man  stopped,  and  they  came  up 
to  him.  But  so  soon  as  Mr  Honest  saw  him  he  said, 
I  know  this  man.  Then  said  Mr  Valiant-for-truth,  Prithee, 
who  is  it  ?  'Tis  one,  said  he,  that  comes  from  whereabouts 
The  story  of  ^  dwelt.  His  name  is  Standfast;  he  is 

Standfast  certainly  a  right  good  pilgrim. 

So  they  came  up  one  to  another.  And  presently  Stand- 
fast said  to  old  Honest,  Ho,  father  Honest,  are  you  there? 

308 


STANDFAST'S  ACCOUNT 

Ay,  said  he,  that  I  am,  as  sure  as  you  are  there.  Right 
glad  am  I,  said  Mr  Standfast,  that  I  have  Talk  betwixt  j^ 
found  you  on  this  road.  And  as  glad  am  I,  **d  Mr  Honest 
said  the  other,  that  I  espied  you  upon  your  knees.  Then 
Mr  Standfast  blushed,  and  said,  But  why,  did  you  see  me  ? 
Yes,  that  I  did,  quoth  the  other,  and  with  my  heart  was 
glad  at  the  sight.  Why,  what  did  you  think  ?  said  Stand- 
fast. Think  !  said  old  Honest ;  what  should  I  think  ?  I 
thought  we  had  an  honest  man  upon  the  road,  and  therefore 
should  have  his  company  by  and  by.  If  you  thought  not 
amiss,  how  happy  am  I !  But  if  I  be  not  as  I  should,  I 
alone  must  bear  it.  That  is  true,  said  the  other;  but 
your  fear  doth  further  confirm  me  that  things  are  right 
betwixt  the  Prince  of  pilgrims  and  your  soul.  For  He  saith, 
Blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth  always. 

Valiant.     Well  but,  brother,  I  pray  thee  tell  us  what 
was  it  that  was  the  cause  of  thy  being  upon     They  found  bim 
thy  knees  even  now ;  was  it  for  that  some     at  prayer 
special  mercy  laid  obligations  upon  thee,  or  how  ? 

Stand.     Why,  we  are,  as  you  see,  upon  the  Enchanted 
Ground;  and  as  I  was  coming  along  I  was     What  it  was  that 
musing  with  myself  of  what  a  dangerous     fetched  hTm  upon 
road,  the  road  in  this  place  was,  and  how     hls  knees 
many  that  had  come  even  thus  far  on  pilgrimage  had  here 
been  stopped  and  been  destroyed.     I  thought  also  of  the 
manner  of  the  death  with  which  this  place  destroyeth  men. 
Those  that  die  here,  die  of  no  violent  distemper  ;  the  death 
which  such  die  is  not  grievous  to  them.     For  he  that  goeth 
away   in  a  sleep,    begins   that  journey    with    desire   and 
pleasure.     Yea,  such  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  that  disease. 

Hon.  Then  Mr  Honest  interrupting  of  him,  said,  Did 
you  see  the  two  men  asleep  in  the  arbour  ? 

Stand.  Ay,  ay,  I  saw  Heedless  and  Too-bold  there ; 
and  for  aught  I  know,  there  they  will  lie  till  they  rot. 
But  let  me  go  on  in  my  tale.  As  I  was  thus  musing,  as 
I  said,  there  was  one  in  very  pleasant  attire,  but  old,  who 
presented  herself  unto  me,  and  offered  me  three  things,  to 
wit,  her  body,  her  purse,  and  her  bed.  Now  the  truth  is, 
I  was  both  aweary  and  sleepy  :  I  am  also  as  poor  as  an  owlet, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  that  perhaps  the  witch  knew.  Well,  I  repulsed  her  once 
and  again,  but  she  put  by  my  repulses,  and  smiled.  Then  I 
began  to  be  angry ;  but  she  mattered  that  nothing  at  all. 
Then  she  made  offers  again,  and  said  if  I  would  be  ruled  by 
her,  she  would  make  me  great  and  happy;  for,  said  she,  I  am 
the  mistress  of  the  world,  and  men  are  made  happy  by  me. 
Madam  Bubble,  Then  I  asked  her  name,  and  she  told  me 
or  this  vain  world  it  was  Madam  Bubble.  This  set  me  further 
from  her;  but  she  still  followed  me  with  enticements. 
Then  I  betook  me,  as  you  see,  to  my  knees,  and  with 
hands  lift  up,  and  cries,  I  prayed  to  Him  that  had  said  He 
would  help.  So  just  as  you  came  up  the  gentlewoman 
went  her  way.  Then  I  continued  to  give  thanks  for 
this  my  great  deliverance  ;  for  I  verily  believe  she  intended 
no  good,  but  rather  sought  to  make  stop  of  me  in  my 
journey. 

Hon.  Without  doubt  her  designs  were  bad.  But, 
stay,  now  you  talk  of  her,  methinks  I  either  have  seen  her, 
or  have  read  some  story  of  her. 

Stand.     Perhaps  you  have  done  both. 

Hon.  Madam  Bubble  !  Is  she  not  a  tall,  comely  dame, 
something  of  a  swarthy  complexion  ? 

Stand.     Right,  you  hit  it :  she  is  just  such  a  one. 

Hon.  Doth  she  not  speak  very  smoothly,  and  give 
you  a  smile  at  the  end  of  a  sentence  ? 

Stand.  You  fall  right  upon  it  again,  for  these  are  her 
very  actions. 

Hon.  Doth  she  not  wear  a  great  purse  by  her  side, 
and  is  not  her  hand  often  in  it,  fingering  her  money,  as  if 
that  was  her  heart's  delight  ? 

Stand.  'Tis  just  so  ;  had  she  stood  by  all  this  while 
you  could  not  more  amply  have  set  her  forth  before  me, 
nor  have  better  described  her  features. 

Hon.  Then  he  that  drew  her  picture  was  a  good 
limner,  and  he  that  wrote  of  her  said  true. 

Great.     This  woman  is  a  witch,  and  it  is  by  virtue  of 

her  sorceries  that  this  ground  is  enchanted. 

Whoever  doth  lay  their  head  down  in  her 

lap  had  as  good  lay  it  down  upon  that  block  over  which  the 

310 


MADAM  BUBBLE 

axe  doth  hang;  and  whoever  lay  their  eyes  upon  her 
beauty  are  counted  the  enemies  of  God.  This  is  she 
that  maintaineth  in  their  splendour  all  those  that  are 
the  enemies  of  pilgrims.  Yea,  this  is  she  that  has 
bought  off  many  a  man  from  a  pilgrim's  life.  She  is 
a  great  gossiper ;  she  is  always,  both  she  and  her 
daughters,  at  one  pilgrim's  heels  or  other,  now  com- 
mending, and  then  preferring  the  excellences  of  this  life. 
She  is  a  bold  and  impudent  slut ;  she  will  talk  with  any 
man.  She  always  laugheth  poor  pilgrims  to  scorn,  but 
highly  commends  the  rich.  If  there  be  one  cunning  to 
get  money  in  a  place,  she  will  speak  well  of  him  from 
house  to  house.  She  loveth  banqueting  and  feasting 
mainly  well ;  she  is  always  at  one  full  table  or  another. 
She  has  given  it  out  in  some  places  that  she  is  a  goddess, 
and  therefore  some  do  worship  her.  She  has  her  time, 
and  open  places  of  cheating  ;  and  she  will  say  and  avow 
it,  that  none  can  show  a  good  comparable  to  hers.  She 
promiseth  to  dwell  with  children's  children,  if  they  will 
but  love  and  make  much  of  her.  She  will  cast  out 
of  her  purse  gold  like  dust  in  some  places  and  to  some 
persons.  She  loves  to  be  sought  after,  spoken  well  of, 
and  to  lie  in  the  bosoms  of  men.  She  is  never  weary  of 
commending  her  commodities,  and  she  loves  them  most 
that  think  best  of  her.  She  will  promise  to  some  crowns 
and  kingdoms  if  they  will  but  take  her  advice ;  yet  many 
has  she  brought  to  the  halter,  and  ten  thousand  times 
more  to  hell. 

Stand.  Oh  !  said  Standfast,  what  a  mercy  is  it  that  I 
did  resist  her  ;  for  whither  might  she  a  drawn  me ! 

Great.  Whither  ?  nay,  none  but  God  knows  whither. 
But  in  general,  to  be  sure,  she  would  a  drawn  thee 
into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  men 
in  destruction  and  perdition.  'Twas  she  that  set 
Absalom  against  his  father,  and  Jeroboam  against  his 
master.  'Twas  she  that  persuaded  Judas  to  sell  his  Lord ; 
and  that  prevailed  with  Demas  to  forsake  the  godly 
pilgrim's  life.  None  can  tell  of  the  mischief  that  she 
doth.  She  makes  variance  betwixt  rulers  and  subjects, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

<* 

betwixt  '  parents  and  children,  'twixt  neighbour  and 
neighbour,  'twixt  a  man  and  his  wife,  'twixt  a  man  and 
himself,  'twixt  the  flesh  and  the  heart.  Wherefore, 
good  Mr  Standfast,  be  as  your  name  is,  and  when  you 
have  done  all,  stand. 

At  this  discourse  there  was  among  the  pilgrims  a 
mixture  of  joy  and  trembling  j  but  at  length  they  broke 
out  and  sang : 

What  danger  is  the  pilgrim  in! 

How  many  are  his  foes  1 
How  many  ways  there  are  to  sin 

No  living  mortal  knows. 

Some  of  the  ditch  shy  are,  yet  can 

Lie  tumbling  in  the  mire: 
Some,  though  they  shun  the  frying-pan, 

Do  leap  into  the  fire. 

After  this  I  beheld  until  they  were  come  into  the  land 
of  Beulah,  where  the  sun  shineth  night  and  day.  Here, 
because  they  were  weary,  they  betook  themselves  a  while 
to  rest.  And  because  this  country  was  common  for 
pilgrims,  and  because  the  orchards  and  vineyards  that  were 
here  belonged  to  the  King  of  the  Celestial  Country,  there- 
fore they  were  licensed  to  make  bold  with  any  of  His 
things.  But  a  little  while  soon  refreshed  them  here ;  for 
the  bells  did  so  ring,  and  the  trumpets  continually  sound 
so  melodiously,  that  they  could  not  sleep,  and  yet  they 
received  as  much  refreshing  as  if  they  had  slept  their  sleep 
never  so  soundly.  Here  also  all  the  noise  of  them  that 
walked  the  streets  was,  More  pilgrims  are  come  to  town ! 
And  another  would  answer,  saying,  And  so  many  went 
over  the  water,  and  were  let  in  at  the  golden  gates  to-day  ! 
They  would  cry  again,  There  is  now  a  legion  of  shining 
ones  just  come  to  town,  by  which  we  know  that  there  are 
more  pilgrims  upon  the  road ;  for  here  they  come  to  wait 
for  them,  and  to  comfort  them  after  all  their  sorrow  !  Then 
the  pilgrims  got  up,  and  walked  to  and  fro.  But  how  were 
their  ears  now  filled  with  heavenly  noises,  and  their  eyes 
delighted  with  celestial  visions  !  In  this  land  they  heard 
nothing,  saw  nothing,  felt  nothing,  smelt  nothing,  tasted 

312 


MESSENGER  TO  CHRISTIANA 

nothing  that  was  offensive  to  their  stomach  or  mind  ;  only 
when  they  tasted  of  the   water  of  the 

3  Death  bitter  to  the 

river  over  which  they  were  to  go,  they     flesh,  but  sweet  to 
thought  that  it  tasted  a  little  bitterish  to     the  soul 
the  palate ;  but  it  proved  sweeter  when  'twas  down. 

In  this  place  there  was  a  record  kept  of  the  names  of 
them  that  had  been  pilgrims  of  old,  and  a  history  of  all  the 
famous  acts  that  they  had  done.  It  was  here  also  much 
discoursed,  how  the  river  to  some  had 

•       i  .        n        •  t        i  it.  «i  Death  has  it  ebb- 

had  its  liowings,  and  what  ebbings  it  has     ings  and  flowing, 

had  while  others  have  gone  over.    It  has 

been  in  a  manner  dry  for  some,  while  it  has  overflowed  its 

banks  for  others. 

In  this  place  the  children  of  the  town  would  go  into  the 
King's  gardens,  and  gather  nosegays  for  the  pilgrims,  and 
bring  them  to  them  with  much  affection.  Here  also  grew 
camphire,  with  spikenard  and  saffron,  calamus,  and  cinna- 
mon, with  all  its  trees  of  frankincense,  myrrh,  and  aloes, 
with  all  chief  spices.  With  these  the  pilgrims'  chambers 
were  perfumed  while  they  stayed  here ;  and  with  these 
were  their  bodies  anointed,  to  prepare  them  to  go  over  the 
river,  when  the  time  appointed  was  come. 

Now  while  they  lay  here,  and  waited  for  the  good  hour, 
there  was  a  noise  in  the  town  that  there  was  a  post  come 
from  the  Celestial  City,  with  matter  of 

A  messenger  of 

great  importance  to  one  Christiana,  the     death  sent  to 

wife  of  Christian  the  pilgrim.    So  inquiry 

was  made  for  her,  and  the  house  was  found  out  where  she 

was.     So  the  post  presented  her  with  a 

letter.     The  contents  whereof  was,  Hail, 

good  woman  :  I  bring  thee  tidings  that  the  Master  calleth 

for  thee,  and  expecteth  that  thou  shouldest  stand  in  His 

presence,  in  clothes  of  immortality,  within  this  ten  days. 

When  he  had  read  this  letter  to  her,  he  gave  her  therewith 
a  sure  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger,  and  was  come 
to  bid  her  make  haste  to  be  gone.  The  token  was,  an 
arrow  with  a  point  sharpened  with  love,  let  easily  into  her 
heart,  which  by  degrees  wrought  so  effectually  with  her, 
that  at  the  time  appointed  she  must  be  gone. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

When  Christiana  saw  that  her  time  was  come,  and  that 
she  was  the  first  of  this  company  that  was 
to  go  over,  she  called  for  Mr  Great-heart 
that  have  nothing:     her  guide,  and  told  him  how  matters  were. 

to  do  but  to  die  „      .  °        .  \ 

oo  he  told  her  he  was  heartily  glad  or  the 
news,  and  could  a  been  glad  had  the  post  come  for 
him.  Then  she  bid  that  he  should  give  advice  how 
Her  speech  to  her  a^  things  should  be  prepared  for  her 
&ud*  journey.  So  he  told  her,  saying,  Thus 

and  thus  it  must  be,  and  we  that  survive  will  accompany 
you  to  the  river  side. 

Then  she  called  for  her  children,  and  gave  them  her 
blessing,  and  told  them  that  she  yet  read 

To  her  children  •  t  r 

with  comtort  the  mark  that  was  set  in 
their  foreheads,  and  was  glad  to  see  them  with  her  there, 
and  that  they  had  kept  their  garments  so  white.  Lastly, 
she  bequeathed  to  the  poor  that  little  she  had,  and  com- 
manded her  sons  and  her  daughters  to  be  ready  against  the 
messenger  should  come  for  them. 

"When  she  had  spoken  these  words  to  her  guide,  and  to 

her  children,  she  called  for  Mr  Valiant- 

for-truth,  and  said  unto  him,  Sir,  you 
have  in  all  places  showed  yourself  true-hearted;  be 
faithful  unto  death,  and  my  King  will  give  you  a  crown 
of  life.  I  would  also  entreat  you  to  have  an  eye  to 
my  children ;  and  if  at  any  time  you  see  them  faint, 
speak  comfortably  to  them.  For  my  daughters,  my  sons' 
wives,  they  have  been  faithful,  and  a  fulfilling  of  the 

promise   upon   them   will   be    their   end. 

But  she  gave  Mr  Standfast  a  ring. 
Then  she  called  for  old  Mr  Honest,  and  said  of  him, 

Behold   an   Israelite  indeed,  in   whom   is 

no  guile!  Then  said  he,  I  wish  you 
a  fair  day  when  you  set  out  for  Mount  Sion,  and  shall 
be  glad  to  see  that  you  go  over  the  river  dry-shod. 
But  she  answered,  Come  wet,  come  dry,  I  long  to  be 
gone ;  for  however  the  weather  is  in  my  journey,  I  shall 
have  time  enough  when  I  come  there  to  sit  down  and  rest 
me,  and  dry  me. 

3M 


CHRISTIANA    BLESSING    HER    CHILDREN 
Then  the  called  for  her  children,  and  gave  them  her  blessing. 


PASSING  THE  RIVER 

Then  came  in  that  good  man,  Mr  Ready-to-halt,  to  see 
her.      So   she   said   to   him,    Thy  travel     TO  Mr  Ready-to- 
hither  has  been  with  difficulty;  but  that     halt 
will  make  thy  rest  the  sweeter.     But  watch  and  be  ready ; 
for  at  an  hour  when  you  think  not,  the  messenger  may  come. 

After  him  came  in  Mr  Despondency  and  his  daughter 
Much-afraid;    to   whom   she    said,    You     To  Despond- 
ought  with  thankfulness  for  ever  to  re-     encyandhis 
member  your  deliverance  from  the  hands 
of  Giant  Despair,  and  out  of  Doubting  Castle.    The  effect 
of  that  mercy  is  that  you  are  brought  with  safety  hither. 
Be  ye  watchful,  and  cast  away  fear  5  be  sober,  and  hope 
to  the  end. 

Then  she  said  to  Mr  Feeble-mind,  Thou  wast  delivered 
from  the  mouth  of  Giant  Slay-good,  that     TO  Feebie- 
thou  mightest  live  in  the  light  of  the  living     mind 
for  ever,  and  see  thy  King  with  comfort.     Only  I  advise 
thee  to  repent  of  thy  aptness  to  fear  and  doubt  of  His 
goodness,  before  He  sends  for  thre :  lest  thou  shouldest, 
when  He  comes,  be  forced  to  stand  before  Him  for  that 
fault  with  blushing. 

Now  the  day  drew  on  that  Christiana  must  be  gone. 
So  the  road  was  full  of  people  to  see  her 

Her  last  day,  and 

take  her  journey.  But  behold,  all  the  manner  of  de- 
banks  beyond  the  river  were  full  of  horses  P*rture 
and  chariots,  which  were  come  down  from  above  to  ac- 
company her  to  the  city  gate.  So  she  came  forth,  and 
entered  the  river,  with  a  beckon  of  farewell  to  those  that 
followed  her  to  the  river-side.  The  last  word  she  was 
heard  to  say  here  was,  I  come,  Lord,  to  be  with  Thee 
and  bless  Thee  !  So  her  children  and  friends  returned  to 
their  place,  for  that  those  that  waited  for  Christiana  had 
carried  her  out  of  their  sight.  So  she  went  and  called, 
and  entered  in  at  the  gate  with  all  the  ceremonies  of  joy 
that  her  husband  Christian  had  done  before  her.  At  her 
departure  her  children  wept.  But  Mr  Great-heart  and 
Mr  Valiant  played  upon  the  well-tuned  cymbal  and  harp 
for  joy.  So  all  departed  to  their  respective  places. 

In  process  of  time,  there  came  a  post  to  the  town  again, 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

and  his  business  was  with  Mr  Ready-to-halt.  So  he  inquired 
Ready-to-halt          him  out,  and  said,  I  am  come  to  thee  in  the 

name  of  Him  whom  thou  hast  loved  and 
followed,  though  upon  crutches  ;  and  my  message  is  to  tell 
thee  that  He  expects  thee  at  His  table  to  sup  with  Him  in 
His  kingdom,  the  next  day  after  Easter ;  wherefore  prepare 
thyself  for  this  journey.  Then  he  also  gave  him  a  token 
that  he  was  a  true  messenger,  saying,  I  have  broken  thy 
golden  bowl  and  loosed  thy  silver  cord. 

After  this  Mr  Ready-to-halt  called  for  his  fellow  pil- 
grims, and  told  them,  saying,  I  am  sent  for,  and  God  shall 
surely  visit  you  also.  So  he  desired  Mr  Valiant  to  make 
his  will.  And  because  he  had  nothing  to  bequeath  to 
them  that  should  survive  him  but  his  crutches,  and  his 
Promises  good  wishes,  therefore  thus  he  said,  These 

crutches  I  bequeath  to  my  son,  that  shall 

tread  in  my  steps,  with  a  hundred  warm 
wishes  that  he  may  prove  better  than  I  have  done.  Then 
he  thanked  Mr  Great-heart  for  his  conduct  and  kindness,  and 
so  addressed  himself  to  his  journey.  When  he  came  at  the 

brink  of  the  river  he  said.  Now  I  shall  have 

HJS  last  words  .     r   ,  '  .  .  . 

no  more  need  of  these  crutches,  since  yonder 
are  chariots  and  horses  for  me  to  ride  on.  The  last  words  he 
was  heard  to  say  were,  Welcome  life  !  So  he  went  his  way. 
After  this  Mr  Feeble-mind  had  tidings  brought  him 
Feeble-mind  sum-  that  the  post  sounded  his  horn  at  his 
moned  chamber-door.  Then  he  came  in,  and 

told  him,  saying,  I  am  come  to  tell  thee  that  the  Master 
has  need  of  thee,  and  that  in  very  little  time  thou  must 
behold  His  face  in  brightness.  And  take  this  as  a  token 
of  the  truth  of  my  message;  Those  that  look  out  at 
the  windows  shall  be  darkened.  Then  Mr  Feeble- 
mind  called  for  his  friends,  and  told  them  what  errand 
had  been  brought  unto  him,  and  what  token  he  had 
received  of  the  truth  of  the  message.  Then  he  said, 
Since  I  have  nothing  to  bequeath  to  any,  to  what  purpose 
.  should  I  make  a  will  ?  As  for  my  feeble 

mind,  that  I  will  leave  behind  me,  for  that 
I  shall  have  no  need  of  in  the  place  whither  I  go,  nor 

316 


DESPONDENCY 

is  it  worth  bestowing  upon  the  poorest  pilgrims;  wherefore, 
when  I  am  gone,  I  desire  that  you,  Mr  Valiant,  would  bury 
it  in  a  dunghill.  This  done,  and  the  day  being  come  in 
which  he  was  to  depart,  he  entered  the  river  as  the  rest. 
His  last  words  were,  Hold  out,  faith  and 
patience !  So  he  went  over  to  the  other  side. 

When  days  had  many  of  them  passed  away,  Mr 
Despondency  was  sent  for ;  for  a  post  was  come,  and 
brought  this  message  to  him :  Trembling  Mr  Despondency's 
man  !  these  are  to  summon  thee  to  be  ready  summons 
with  thy  King  by  thy  next  Lord's  day,  to  shout  for  joy  for 
thy  deliverance  from  all  thy  doublings.  And,  said  the 
messenger,  that  my  message  is  true,  take  this  for  a  proof: 
so  he  gave  him  the  grasshopper  to  be  a  burden  unto  him. 

Now  Mr   Despondency's    daughter,  whose   name  was 
Much-afraid,  said,  when  she  heard  what     His  daughter  goes 
was   done,    that  she  would  go  with  her     to° 
father.     Then  Mr  Despondency  said  to  his  friends,  Myself 
and  my  daughter  you  know  what  we  have  been,  and  how 
troublesomely  we  have  behaved  ourselves  in  every  com- 
pany.    My  will  and  my  daughter's  is,  that  . 
our  desponds  and  slavish  fears  be  by  no 
man  ever  received,  from  the  day  of  our  departure  for  ever ; 
for  I  know  that  after  my  death  they  will  offer  themselves 
to  others.     For  to  be  plain  with  you,  they  are  ghosts  the 
which  we  entertained  when  we  first  began  to  be  pilgrims, 
and  could  never  shake  them  off  after  ;  and  they  will  walk 
about,  and  seek  entertainment  of  the  pilgrims  :  but  for  our 
sakes,  shut  ye  the  doors  upon  them.     When  the  time  was 
come  for  them  to  depart,  they  went  to  the  brink  of  the 
river.   The  last  words  of  Mr  Despondency 
were,    Farewell,    night  •,    welcome,    day ! 
His  daughter  went  through  the  river  singing,  but  none 
could  understand  what  she  said. 

Then  it  came  to  pass  a  while  after,  that  there  was  a  post 
in  the  town  that  inquired  for  Mr  Honest.      So  he  came  to 
the  house  where  he  was,  and  delivered  to     Mr  Honest  »um- 
his  hands  these  lines  :  Thou  art  commanded     moned 
to  be  ready  against  this  day  sevennight,  to  present  thyself 

317 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

before  thy  Lord,  at  His  Father's  house.  And  for  a 
token  that  my  message  is  true,  All  thy  daughters  of 
music  shall  be  brought  low.  Then  Mr  Honest  called 
for  his  friends,  and  said  unto  them,  I  die,  but  shall  make 
no  will.  As  for  my  honesty,  it  shall  go 

He  makes  no  will  .  ,  ,  .       J  , 

with  me  j  let  him  that  comes  after  be 
told  of  this.  "When  the  day  that  he  was  to  be  gone  was 
come,  he  addressed  himself  to  go  over  the  river.  Now 
the  river  at  that  time  overflowed  the  banks  in  some  places  ; 

but  Mr  Honest  in  his  life-time  had  spoken 

Good-conscience  ^-,        ,  .  •  •         « 

helps  Mr  Honest      to  one  Good-conscience  to  meet  him  there, 
the  which  he  also  did,  and  lent  him  his 
hand,  and  so   helped  him  over.     The  last  words  of  Mr 
Honest  were,  Grace  reigns  !     So  he  left  the  world. 

After  this  it  was  noised  abroad  that  Mr  Valiant-for-truth 

Mr  Valiant  was  taken  with  a  summons   by  the  same 

summoned  pOSt   as    the   other,    and   had   this    for   a 

token  that  the  summons  was  true,  That  his  pitcher  was 

broken   at    the    fountain.      When   he    understood    it   he 

called  for  his  friends,  and  told  them  of  it.     Then  said 

he,  I  am  going  to  my  Father's  j  and  though  with  great 

difficulty  I  am  got  hither,  yet  now  I  do  not  repent  me  of 

all  the  trouble  I  have  been  at  to  arrive  where  I  am.     My 

sword  I  give  to  him  that  shall  succeed  me 

in  my  pilgrimage,  and  my  courage  and  skill 

to  him  that  can  get  it.     My  marks  and  scars  I  carry  with 

me,  to  be  a  witness  for  me  that  I  have  fought  His  battles 

who  now  will  be  my  rewarder.     When  the  day  that  he 

must  go  hence  was  come,  many  accompanied  him  to  the 

river  side,  into  which  as  he  went  he  said,  Death,  where  is 

thy  sting  ?     And  as  he  went  down  deeper, 

he    said,    Grave,   where   is   thy   victory  ? 

So  he  passed  over,  and  all  the  trumpets  sounded  for  him 

on  the  other  side. 

Then  there  came  forth  a  summons  for  Mr  Standfast. 
Mr  standfast  This  Mr  Standfast  was  he  that  the  rest  of 

s  summoned  the  pilgrims  found  upon  his  knees  in  the 

Enchanted  Ground.     For  the  post  brought  it  him  open  in 
his  hands;  the  contents  whereof  were,  that  he  must  prepare 


STANDFAST'S  LAST  WORDS 

for  a  change  of  life,  for  his  Master  was  not  willing  that 
he  should  be  so  far  from  Him  any  longer.  At  this  Mr 
Standfast  was  put  into  a  muse.  Nay,  said  the  messenger, 
you  need  not  doubt  of  the  truth  of  my  message ;  for 
here  is  a  token  of  the  truth  thereof:  The  wheel  is 
broken  at  the  cistern.  Then  he  called  to  He  calls  for  Mr 
him  Mr  Great-heart,  who  was  their  guide,  Great-heart 
and  said  unto  him,  Sir,  although  it  was  not  my  hap  to  be 
much  in  your  good  company  in  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage, 
yet,  since  the  time  I  knew  you,  you  have  been  profitable  to 
me.  When  I  came  from  home,  I  left  behind 
me  a  wife  and  five  small  children ;  let  me 
entreat  you  at  your  return  (for  I  know  that  you  will 
go  and  return  to  your  Master's  house  in  hopes  that  you 
may  yet  be  a  conductor  to  more  of  the  holy  pilgrims) 
that  you  send  to  my  family,  and  let  them  be  acquainted 
with  all  that  hath  and  shall  happen  unto  His  errand  to  his 
me.  Tell  them  moreover  of  my  happy  famUy 
arrival  to  this  place,  and  of  the  present  late  blessed 
condition  that  I  am  in.  Tell  them  also  of  Christian 
and  of  Christiana  his  wife,  and  how  she  and  her  children 
came  after  her  husband.  Tell  them  also  of  what  a  happy 
end  she  made,  and  whither  she  is  gone.  I  have  little 
or  nothing  to  send  to  my  family,  unless  it  be  prayers 
and  tears  for  them ;  of  which  it  will  suffice  if  thou 
acquaint  them,  if  peradventure  they  may  prevail.  When 
Mr  Standfast  had  thus  set  things  in  order,  and  the  time 
being  come  to  haste  him  away,  he  also  went  down  to  the 
river.  Now  there  was  a  great  calm  at  that  time  in  the 
river;  wherefore  Mr  Standfast,  when  he  was  about  half 
way  in,  stood  a  while,  and  talked  to  his  companions  that 
had  waited  upon  him  thither.  And  he  said. 

T-I  •  11  His  last  words 

This  river  has  been  a  terror  to  many  ;  yea, 
the  thoughts  of  it  also  have  often  frighted  me  ;  but  now 
methinks  I  stand  easy  ;  my  foot  is  fixed  upon  that  upon 
which  the  feet  of  the  priests  that  bare  the  ark  of  the 
covenant  stood  while  Israel  went  over  this  Jordan. 
The  waters  indeed  are  to  the  palate  bitter,  and  to  the 
stomach  cold:  yet  the  thoughts  of  what  I  am  going 

319 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

A, 

to,  and  of  the  conduct  that  waits  for  me  on  the  other  side, 
doth  lie  as  a  glowing  coal  at  my  heart.  I  see  myself  now 
at  the  end  of  my  journey ;  my  toilsome  days  are  ended.  I  am 
going  now  to  see  that  head  that  was  crowned  with  thorns, 
and  that  face  which  was  spit  upon  for  me.  I  have  formerly 
lived  by  hearsay  and  faith  :  but  now  I  go  where  I  shall  live 
by  sight,  and  shall  be  with  Him  in  whose  company  I  delight 
myself.  I  have  loved  to  hear  my  Lord  spoken  of;  and 
wherever  I  have  seen  the  print  of  His  shoe  in  the  earth, 
there  I  have  coveted  to  set  my  foot  too.  His  name  has 
been  to  me  as  a  civet-box ;  yea,  sweeter  than  all  perfumes. 
His  voice  to  me  has  been  most  sweet ;  and  His  countenance 
I  have  more  desired  than  they  that  have  most  desired  the 
light  of  the  sun.  His  word  I  did  use  to  gather  for  my 
food,  and  for  antidotes  against  my  faintings.  He  has  held 
me,  and  I  have  kept  me  from  mine  iniquities  ;  yea,  my  steps 
hath  He  strengthened  in  His  way. 

Now  while  he  was  thus  in  discourse  his  countenance 
changed ;  his  strong  men  bowed  under  him :  and  after  he 
had  said,  Take  me,  for  I  come  unto  Thee,  he  ceased  to  be 
seen  of  them. 

But  glorious  it  was  to  see  how  the  upper  region  was  filled 
with  horses  and  chariots,  with  trumpeters  and  pipers,  with 
singers  and  players  on  stringed  instruments,  to  welcome 
the  pilgrims  as  they  went  up,  and  followed  one  another  in 
at  the  beautiful  gate  of  the  city. 

As  ror^Christiana's  children,  the  four  boys  that  Christiana 
brought,  whh  their  wives  and  children,  I  did  not  stay 
where  I  was  till  they  were  gone  over.  Also  since  I  came 
away,  I  heard  one  say  that  they  were  yet  alive,  and  so 
would  be  for  the  increase  of  the  church  in  that  place  where 
they  were  for  a  time. 

Should  it  be  my  lot  to  go  that  way  again,  I  may  give 
those  that  desire  it  an  account  of  what  I  here  am  silent 
about :  meantime  I  bid  my  reader 

ADIEU. 

THE    END. 
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